Until We Meet Again
by Bookreader525
Summary: Six years after the night on the mountain, the ten friends have matured and tried to move on. Now all in their mid-twenties, everyone is scattered around the country and mostly coping with the lives they've got. Everything changes when Josh invites them to reunite in Seattle - and it soon becomes clear that all those old feelings and romances will not soon be forgotten. COMPLETE!
1. Cold Case

**Hi there! I'm a new author to the Until Dawn fanfic community, though I've been a lurking reader for a few months.**

 **I absolutely love this game to pieces, and it actually helped me realize I can tolerate horror (to an extent... haha.)**

 **So I came up with this little story about the friends, in an AU where Hannah and Beth are alive, but there was still the night of torture and Josh's prank (it will all be explained, no worries.) I have big plans for it and I'm so thrilled about this story. I've written a basic outline for how I want the plot to go, but I'll gladly consider reader input as I go along.**

 **Alright, so here goes nothing! The ten main characters are not mine.**

* * *

 **December 20th, 2020 - Seattle**

David Gray sighed, leaning back against his chair and absentmindedly drumming his fingers against his desk. Twenty years at this police department, and for what? Two measly promotions in all his time here, and he hasn't even fully solved a case since 2013.

He groaned, resting his forehead on the palms of his hands. He was certain that he was going to lose his job. Eight years, and all his leads had dried up. There had to be some old case he could work on.

Waving his mouse, he furrowed his eyebrows in frustration as his ancient computer roared back to life. Why in the hell did the department's computer system still have Windows 7? It was so old, Gray could hear the monitor's deafening whirring, which almost sounded like the dry hacking of a dying elderly man.

After ten minutes, the department's files were loaded up, and the dark-haired man scrolled through absently until he was down to the W's.

His eyes landed on a case titled "Wendigos." "What the hell is a wendigo?" he muttered to himself, and curiosity got the better of him. He clicked the unfamiliar word and was brought to the file of a nearly six-year-old cold case that hadn't been updated in six months.

 **WENDIGOS**

 **DATE:** 02 FEBRUARY 2015

 **DETAILS:** TEN TEENAGERS BARELY ESCAPED WITH THEIR LIVES OFF OF MOUNT WASHINGTON IN BLACKWOOD TOWNSHIP, ALBERTA, CANADA. THEY BROUGHT THEIR STORY BACK HERE TO SEATTLE, BECAUSE BLACKWOOD OFFICIALS WERE NOT INTERESTED, FOR UNKNOWN REASONS. THESE TEENAGERS, RANGING IN AGES FROM EIGHTEEN TO TWENTY, CLAIMED TO HAVE SEEN A MONSTER CALLED A WENDIGO. AN INVESTIGATION WAS INITIATED, BUT NO DETAILS WERE EVER DELIVERED BACK. CASE HAS BEEN COLD AS OF 17 MARCH 2015.

Right away this struck Gray's fancy, and he scrolled down a bit to see the information on the teenagers involved. The headshots of them were probably from around the time they escaped the mountain almost six years ago, since they looked exhausted and beaten up. A few even had blood splattered on their torn, dirty clothes.

Gray pulled up their information, which had been updated more recently than anything else in the case.

 **WASHINGTON, JOSHUA ROBERT**

 **HAIR:** DARK BROWN

 **EYES:** GREEN

 **HEIGHT:** 5'9''

 **D.O.B.** 2 DEC 1994

 **NOTES:** _Injuries included stab wound in left shoulder and large gash in forehead. Joshua is the elder brother of the twins Beth and Hannah Washington, both of whom were also involved in the incident. He was admitted to Overton Mental Facility & Hospital on 05 Feb 2015 following the incident in Blackwood, and was released from Overton on 19 Mar 2016. As of Jun 2020, Joshua is taking two different medications to help control his depression and schizophrenia. He now resides in Seattle, WA and is employed by Target Corporation._

 **MUNROE, MICHAEL BENJAMIN**

 **HAIR:** DARK BROWN

 **EYES:** BROWN

 **HEIGHT:** 6'2''

 **D.O.B.** 30 JUN 1995

 **NOTES:** _Injuries included bruises and cuts, and the loss of two fingers on left hand. Michael was in fairly stable condition upon his release from Blackwood Memorial Hospital, and was insistent on being near his girlfriend, Jessica Riley, at all times. As of Jun 2020, Michael resides in Pittsburgh, PA and is employed at privately owned Black Dog Brewery._

 **DAVIS, EMILY NICOLE**

 **HAIR:** BLACK

 **EYES:** LIGHT BROWN

 **HEIGHT:** 5'7''

 **D.O.B.** 28 SEP 1995

 **NOTES:** _Injuries included a severe scrape on one knee and a puncture wound, possibly an animal bite, on right shoulder. Emily was in stable condition upon release from Blackwood Memorial Hospital, and was reported to be in a relationship with peer Matthew Taylor. As of Jun 2020, she resides in New York, NY and is employed by Macy's, Inc._

 **BROWN, ASHLEY GABRIELA**

 **HAIR:** RED

 **EYES:** GREEN

 **HEIGHT:** 5'4''

 **D.O.B.** 7 AUG 1996

 **NOTES:** _Injuries included a black eye and various scrapes and bruises. Ashley had blood splattered all over her left side, though a DNA test on her hoodie accounted the blood to be a pig's. She was close with peer Christopher Hartley upon their simultaneous release from Blackwood Memorial Hospital. As of Jun 2020, Ashley resides in Portland, OR and is employed by Powell's Bookstore._

 **HARTLEY, CHRISTOPHER NATHAN**

 **HAIR:** DARK BLOND

 **EYES:** BLUE

 **HEIGHT:** 5'9''

 **D.O.B.** 13 NOV 1995

 **NOTES:** _Injuries included a large hematoma on the forehead and a badly sprained ankle. Christopher was on crutches upon his release from Blackwood Memorial Hospital, which coincided with the release of peer Ashley Brown. As of Jun 2020, he resides in San Francisco, CA and is employed by a private video game design company._

 **GIDDINGS, SAMANTHA HEATHER**

 **HAIR:** BLONDE

 **EYES:** HAZEL

 **HEIGHT:** 5'0''

 **D.O.B.** 21 AUG 1995

 **NOTES:** _Injuries included cuts and scrapes and impaired hearing in the right ear. Samantha appeared to be quite traumatized upon her release from Blackwood Memorial Hospital, and she was briefly under the care of Dr. Perry to help with trauma and to regain hearing. As of Jun 2020, Samantha resides in Chicago, IL and is employed by Safezone Insurance Company and a privately owned coffee shop._

 **RILEY, JESSICA MICHELLE**

 **HAIR:** BLONDE

 **EYES:** GRAY

 **HEIGHT:** 5'5''

 **D.O.B.** 26 FEB 1996

 **NOTES:** _Injuries were life-threatening, and included a severe grade 3 concussion, five broken ribs, a twisted ankle, a sprained wrist, and deep gashes and abrasions on her chest, face and shoulders. Jessica responded remarkably well to treatment and only fell into a coma-like state for 1 hour. She was in a close relationship with peer Michael Munroe, and they reportedly live together in Pittsburgh, PA._

 **TAYLOR, MATTHEW JOSEPH**

 **HAIR:** BLACK

 **EYES:** BROWN

 **HEIGHT:** 5'8''

 **D.O.B.** 14 MAY 1996

 **NOTES:** _Injuries included cuts, scrapes, burns, and sprained ankle from a fall. Matthew was in stable condition upon his release from Blackwood Memorial Hospital, and he was reportedly in a relationship with peer Emily Davis. Since the incident he has acquired a minor criminal record for a DUI in Sep 2018. As of Jun 2020, Matthew resides in New York, NY._

 **WASHINGTON, HANNAH ELISE**

 **HAIR:** BROWN

 **EYES:** BROWN

 **HEIGHT:** 5'8''

 **D.O.B.** 15 AUG 1996

 **NOTES:** _Injuries included a shattered elbow, cuts, and burns. Hannah is the sister of Joshua and the older twin of Beth. Her mention of a "strange monster" exactly a year before the incident (02 Feb 2014) sparked an investigation from local police which turned up nothing. As of Jun 2020, Hannah resides in Spokane, WA with her sister and is employed by an online magazine._

 **WASHINGTON, BETH LYNN**

 **HAIR:** DARK BROWN

 **EYES:** DARK BROWN

 **HEIGHT:** 5'8''

 **D.O.B.** 15 AUG 1996

 **NOTES:** _Injuries included severe claw marks in the legs, and the near detachment of two toes, which was attributed to her being barefoot. Beth is the sister of Joshua and the younger twin of Hannah. As of Jun 2020, she resides in Spokane, WA with her sister and is self employed._

Gray couldn't suppress a shudder as he finished reading their profiles. Lost fingers? Scars? Animal bites? What in God's name had they gone through on that night?

He knew it would be difficult to crack this one, but perhaps if he got in contact with these ten people now… _I mean, one of them is bound to reply, right?_ Gray thought to himself, cracking his knuckles as he stared at their forlorn and battered headshots, glowing before him on the computer screen.

"I might as well do the best I can," he said to himself, deciding to get right on this case immediately after his week off for the holidays.

Shutting off his tired old computer, he gathered up his things, making a mental note to find out all he could about those wendigos.

* * *

 **Okay, so this was just a short little intro to my story! Looks like this cop is going to look into their old case, but do the ten friends want anything to do with those wendigos and that mountain anymore?**

 **I promise the next chapter will be longer!**

 **I made up all of the middle names, and I made up all of the last names except for Mike's, Josh, Hannah, and Beth's.**

 **See you next time!**

 **EDIT: I tweaked the heights a little, since it was pointed out to me that I fucked up- you were right tho! I did my best and tried to fix them, but let me know if they could be a little more accurate. Thanks!**

 **EDIT 2: Okay, okay, fine. I caved and updated the last names to their canon versions.**

 **EDIT 3: I fixed up the group's individual reports, and hopefully made them less awkwardly worded. I also gave injuries to Hannah and Beth, with the help of a kind soul over on AO3.**

 **EDIT 4: Love when I notice silly typos over a year later. Ha... ha. Great.**


	2. Heaven

**December 31st, 2020 - Seattle**

"Have a great new year, ma'am." Josh muttered, sighing as he leaned back against the counter, picking on some gunk stuck on his nametag.

It was some life he had, working the New Year's Eve shift at Target. He was at least grateful that the store closed early today and that he had off tomorrow. But after that? Right back to the daily grind: restocking shelves, managing the checkout counter, and spending lonely lunch breaks in the back room, eating a soggy tuna sandwich.

It was no life for him, but he knew he very well deserved it. Running a hand through his short brown hair, he checked the time on the computer monitor to his right: 11:15 AM. The store closed in a little less than two hours. His first medication was in five hours. Then his second medication was in eight hours.

He'd been taking these medications for a while now, roughly six years. He thought back, recalling the night of hell on Blackwood Mountain… yes, that was early 2015. Six years. None of his friends ever knew it until that day, but Josh had been mentally unstable since he was eleven years old. After his sisters nearly died the previous year because of a prank some of their friends played, Josh decided to get them back, but in the end the night turned out much worse than he'd expected. He had never intended for anyone to be nearly killed, but all hell broke loose once the wendigos attacked.

The wendigos… Josh shuddered. These huge, skinny, long-limbed creatures with sharp-ass teeth that led the way to gaping mouths that released a scream unlike no human or animal Josh had ever heard before… it was truly awful. He and Jess were the ones most nearly killed by these things, when she was dragged away in only her bra and underwear and he was taken prisoner, probably for being a Washington.

Josh remembered back when he was younger, and a strange man came to the Washington household soon after Josh's father announced his plans to build a lodge on top of Blackwood Mountain in Alberta, Canada. Josh was just excited about getting to visit another country, so he was confused when this man warned his father not to build on "sacred lands."

Needless to say, his ambitious father didn't pay any heed to the stranger's words, and the lodge was built within a year. It was on Josh's annual winter getaway there with his friends in 2014 that things went awry because of a prank. It was mainly the brainchild of Emily, Jess, and Mike, and because Josh was passed out drunk with Chris, there was no way for him to stop it.

Hannah, with a huge crush on Mike, was tricked into taking her shirt off in front of Mike while Matt caught it on camera. Mortified, Hannah ran out into the woods late at night and an angry Beth ran out after her, as Josh was told.

Sam was pissed enough to go after them as well, and caught them just in time, as they were being chased by a horrific screaming creature that later, of course, turned out to be a wendigo. The three girls made it back into the lodge in time, and everyone, thoroughly scarred, stayed there until the next morning, when they promptly left.

Josh wasn't quite sure why he so wanted everyone to return to the mountain the following year, but he did, and perhaps it was sympathy for Hannah and Beth, since they had nearly been killed by some creature last year, but sure enough everyone showed up again.

That was when Josh put his plan into motion, and then after that…

Another shudder passed through Josh, and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying desperately to forget the face of that monster. That— that _thing_ , with the horrible, skeleton-like body with thick, bullet-proof skin stretched taut over the decimated remains of what had once been a human being…

"Um, excuse me?"

Josh opened his eyes, blinking hard as he still tried to remove the nightmarish image. "I'm sorry, sir. How can I help you?"

A pudgy, balding man was standing on the other side of the counter, holding up two different greeting cards. He laughed awkwardly. "Um, I'm having trouble picking out which card to give to my girlfriend… her birthday is on New Year's tomorrow and—"

Josh right away blurted out, " _Girlfriend_?" and immediately regretted it. The forty-year-old man stared at him, confused, and then trudged away, his awful acid-wash baggy jeans swishing loudly.

Well, at least he was alone again so he could feel sorry for himself. Seriously? _That_ guy was getting action while Josh hadn't even kissed a girl in two years? Bullshit. "Probably his 'girlfriend' is a face he draws on his hand," he muttered bitterly to himself.

The last girl he'd kissed had been on New Year's 2018, so— oh, God. Josh stopped himself. That was _three_ years ago now. He kicked the counter. Dammit, dammit. If he could just feel the touch of a woman again, then maybe he could at least feel a little better.

He glanced around him, and found that the store was mostly empty of customers. Two counters over, his coworker Brenda— who was at least ten years his senior— smiled and waved as she finished checking out a man and his grandson.

"Have a lovely New Year's," she said to them before turning off her station light and ambling over to Josh. She had curly brown hair that stayed in one shape all day thanks to, presumably, gallons of hairspray. Her face was caked with makeup one shade too dark, and her lips were a deep blood red color.

"Hey, Brenda," Josh sighed, not paying her much attention as usual. She was probably back for another one of her embarrassing flirting sessions.

"Hey, cutie," she teased, crossing her arms. "You alright?"

He shrugged, staring at his feet.

"Hey," she repeated. "I know it's a bummer to have to work on New Year's Eve. Just remember, two hours till we're free!" He could see her wide smile out of the corner of his eye.

Feeling bad, Josh glanced up and offered her a small grin. "Yeah, that's true. No, I'm just lonely. The real bummer is being alone on New Year's."

"You don't have anyone?"

His eyes rolled to the ceiling, eyeing a brown-rimmed water stain that he hadn't noticed before. "Well, my sisters lived together in the same state until—"

"No, I don't mean family, hun." He stiffened, turning his head to see that she was batting her lumpy mascara-laden eyelashes at him. "What do you say…" she trailed off. She didn't have to say any more for him to understand.

"Holy shit," he whispered. "Are you serious?" The first feeling that came over him upon hearing her suggestion was, naturally, disgust. But then he remembered: three years. Three. Damn. Years.

A smile broke apart his frowning lips. Brenda wasn't the girl he loved. He hadn't seen that girl in five years. But then again, a meaningless hookup in the breakroom closet in a Target couldn't hurt his ego, right?

As long as no one ever found out, of course.

 **December 31st, 2020 – Pittsburgh**

"Oh my God, what happened to your fingers?"

Mike bit his tongue, fighting the urge to slap the customer across the face— after all, just because he only had three fingers didn't mean the hit would hurt any less.

Rubbing the stubble on his face, he took a deep breath. "There was an accident, and my fingers got caught in a bear trap, and they had to be amputated," he explained, choosing not to mention the fact that he had performed the amputation himself in an abandoned sanatorium with a machete.

The woman gasped, almost looking like she was going to be sick. Taking her beer, she bolted out of the building, not bothering to look behind her as the door slammed in another exiting customer's face.

Mike snorted. That wasn't the worst reaction he'd gotten— there had been screams, even one person had fainted once. The most annoying reaction, however, was the nonstop staring. Now he understood how Jess felt when boys used to stare at her ass in high school. Mike hadn't said it to her then, but he felt those boys had a good reason— she _was_ hot, after all. _Wait, no,_ Mike thought to himself. _We're not teenagers anymore. She's not 'hot,' she's_ beautiful _._

And in any case, what was the appeal of staring at missing fingers? You're looking at something that's not even there.

Mike was at least grateful that the brewery was closing in a half hour at three. All he wanted was to get home to his girlfriend, who had off from work today. Then, just like every year the past six years, they would watch the ball drop together and ring in the new year.

Deep down inside him, Mike was hoping that something different would happen this year; he'd take anything, really, as long as it wasn't two more missing fingers.

As another customer approached the checkout counter, he grinned stiffly and proceeded to scan their six-pack of beer, counting down the minutes until he could leave.

Before he left, Mike had grabbed a few individual bottles for him and Jess to share at home, and as he entered their apartment, which was situated on the upper level of a shared house in the suburbs of Pittsburgh, he held them up with a smile. "Got you a present!" he called, finding her in the living room curled up under a blanket.

When she looked up at him, his heart fluttered. He still couldn't quite understand why, after years of dating, he still got so amazed every time he laid his eyes on her. She was astounding, even when she was curled under a blanket with no makeup on and her long blonde hair in a messy bun.

"What are you looking at, doof?" she asked, giggling as he collapsed onto the couch and kissed her cheek.

"Just looking at you. Is that allowed?" he teased.

She rolled her eyes, snuggling into him as he stretched his arm over her head. After popping open two cans of beer with his good hand, he handed one to her and she began to sip it. "Mmm, good stuff. So, how was your day?"

"Let's see… well, only six people asked about my fingers, so it was actually a pretty good day. How about yours?"

"Well, I just laid around a lot. Oh, and I think I Windexed one window before I remembered that _Friends_ comes on at twelve. After that, it was butt to the couch for three hours straight."

He chuckled, taking a long sip before sitting back for a moment and actually paying attention to what was on the TV. It was the famous episode where Ross and Rachel were supposedly "on a break."

"Speaking of _Friends_ ," Jess piped up suddenly. "I wonder how our friends are doing."

Mike blinked. "Oh. You mean Sam, Chris, and everyone?"

He felt her nod against his chest. "Who else?"

Mike whistled. "Well. It's been a while since we've seen them, I know that. Aren't Matt and Em still up in New York City?"

"I think so, yeah," Jess replied. "But everyone else is so far away…"

He rubbed her arm. "I know. I'm surprised that no one has planned a reunion or anything yet."

Eight and a half hours later, the ball was about to drop, and Mike had drunk three beers and Jess two and a half.

A little tipsy, she started giggling nonstop as the countdown began: "10! 9…"

"What's so funny?" Mike asked, snorting, blinking to clear his vision as he looked down at her. He could feel his head swimming a little, so he set down his almost-empty can on the coffee table.

"6! 5…"

"Everything… is so… funny," Jess replied between laughs before she hiccupped.

"…2! 1!" The ball dropped in a flash, as the new year spread out before them, a clean slate. "Happy new year!" the TV announcers yelled, as "2021" flashed in big numbers on the screen.

In his alcohol-infused mind, Mike couldn't think of a decent wish to make, so he sent out the best he could come up with: _I wish something different happens this year._

It was seconds into the new year, and Jess was on top of him, her lips on his, his hands on her waist, her hair falling out of the bun and tickling his arms.

"Jesus! Jess!" he spluttered when she pulled away to catch her breath. "Hold your horses. Let me get my pants off first."

"Let me do that for you," she hissed into his ear, pleasure tingling down the right side of his body as her breath touched his neck. Sure enough, her fingers slid down to his belt and within seconds it was off; she was no amateur.

His hands slid their way up her sweatshirt, and he soon realized that she had gone braless that day. Smirking, he kicked off his jeans and boxers while pulling her sweatshirt off her body. He yanked at the edges of his t-shirt, taking it off, and when he looked at her again, everything was off. It was skin on skin.

She leaned back in, the tang of alcohol strong on their breaths, and their lips met again. Not even bothering to detach his face from hers, Mike simply stretched out a hand to find the TV remote and turned it off.

This, Mike believed, was what heaven was like.

 **January 1st, 2021 – New York**

Emily frowned down at the pathetic sight in front of her. Her longtime boyfriend Matt, once again, was passed out on the old brown sofa, a path of drool leading down the side of his chin and onto his sleeve. A beer bottle that had been clasped in his hand when he fell asleep was now on the hardwood floor… after chipping the glass coffee table on its way down, of course.

Anger rose up within the raven-haired woman, but she suppressed it, instead walking around last night's disaster to get to the kitchen.

Even when she was finished with breakfast— two poached eggs and a slice of almost-burnt avocado toast— he still wasn't awake, not even enticed by the food smells.

 _Wait. What if he's dead?_ Tense, Emily returned to the couch and, hand shaking, felt for a pulse in his neck.

That was when he finally roused, mumbling about her cold fingers.

"Dammit, Matthew!" she yelled, storming away, and he jerked the rest of the way awake.

"What? Wha—" he said, falling off the couch onto his beer bottle, which dug into his ribs. "Fuck, that hurt," he mumbled, getting to his feet and stumbling into the kitchen.

He heard his girlfriend's high-heel-clad feet reenter the room, and he guffawed loudly, slamming the fridge door shut with a water bottle in hand. "Shit, Em! Best. Night. Ever."

"Shit, no. It. Was. Not," Emily replied hotly, walking right past his puckered lips. "Maybe it was the best night ever in your dreams, dumbass. You fell asleep at eleven, passed out drunk for the second night in a row. You need to get a hold of yourself." She turned away from him, her hand on the knob of the front door. Tears were gathering in her eyes, and she took a deep breath. "You promised this would stop when you moved back in."

"I'm sorry, babe," Matt said, his goofy smile faltering. He downed the entire water bottle, crushed it, and threw it in the recycling can. "I know how much I've let you down, and I'll never be able to repay you for letting me try to make this work again—"

She tossed her shoulder-length hair out of her face, still refusing to look at him. "Yeah. You're definitely trying real hard, aren't you," she snapped before walking out.

A few minutes later, Emily was out of their apartment building and in the fresh air. She winced at the bitter cold as a frosty breeze nipped at her nose, but besides that ignored it as she marched down the crowded street.

She was needed in work today— and a few years ago, that would have really pissed her off, but at this point she was used to it.

Needed in work on Thanksgiving? Oh, well, it would only be the fifth year in a row she couldn't fly out to see her family. Matt could eat a frozen meal with turkey in it… close enough.

Needed in work on a Valentine's Day that landed on Saturday? Oh, well, it would only be the third one in a row she couldn't celebrate with her boyfriend. And alone, he would drink himself half to death… perfect.

Emily stepped into the 70-story building, welcoming the rush of warm air around her. She didn't waste her breath saying hello to the doorman or the front desk secretary; there was no time anymore.

She entered an elevator packed with seven other briefcase-holding people. Everyone was either chatting away on their Bluetooth or gulping mouthful after mouthful of hot coffee.

It was the usual, and Emily was completely accustomed to the buzz. To her, it was all in the background now. She had worked so hard to get this job, and the five promotions that followed. There was no way in the deepest depths of hell she was going to screw anything up or leave a hair out of place, hungover boyfriend or no hungover boyfriend.

As she'd already clearly seen from the elevator and lobby, she wasn't the only one who had to come into work on New Year's Day. She had to fight through a large cluster of people in the hallway just to get into her office.

Once she was inside, she shut the door and breathed a sigh of relief, glaring through the frosted glass at the loud people outside.

"He said he left them for me… oh, here they are," she muttered to herself, playing with her choker necklace as she began to sort through the paperwork on her desk.

Another day, another dollar.

* * *

 **So that's the update on five of the friends! Again, I promise this will get interesting soon.**

 **Thank you for the fave and follow!**

 **-E**


	3. Brown Eyes

**January 16th, 2021 - Portland**

Ashley smiled to herself as she carefully drew the eyeliner onto her other eye. It was a difficult feat for her to manage without messing it up, but this time she succeeded.

"Yes!" she praised herself. _For once, I don't look like I have a black eye._

She touched her index finger to her phone's screen, and seconds later it unlocked so she could glance at the time. "5:56," she muttered, running a brush through her medium-length red hair. _Four minutes until I see him again._

Wandering out into her cramped apartment, Ashley placed her favorite blue striped beanie back on her head before sitting down at her desk and opening up her laptop.

His call came in two minutes early, but Ashley didn't mind one bit because she knew it would be two extra minutes with him. Eagerly accepting the call, a delighted blush colored in her cheeks at the sight of his smile.

"Hey, gorgeous," Chris said, sliding his black framed glasses onto his face. His jaws broke into a small yawn, and seeing this made Ashley yawn too. "Forgive me, m'lady, I'm just waking up from a snooze here."

Ashley snorted. "Really? It's not like we're so far apart that it's ten PM where you are. You're only 636.1 miles to the south of me."

He blinked a few times, then rolled his eyes. "Hey, a hardworking gentleman like me deserves a few power naps every now and then, okay? Don't judge. And you so googled that distance."

"I so did not!" Ashley protested, pulling at one edge of her beanie.

"You so did too," Chris argued back. "But no worries, because the second I moved down here two years ago I googled my distance from you. It's… it's a hell of a lot."

Her smile faded. "Yeah… 636.1 miles."

Chris let out a low whistle, and several minutes of silence stretched between them. Ashley didn't mind— just as long as she knew he was there, breathing and blinking and listening, it almost felt as if he was right beside her. She just missed feeling his breath warm on her neck, and the soft touch as his lips grazed hers. God, how she missed it.

"Ash, I'll try to see you again soon. There's no way Brad will refuse to give me a week off at this point. I haven't asked for one in six months. I'll— I'll come visit at your birthday or something," Chris exploded, murdering the peaceful silence.

Her green eyes glittered with tears as she stared at him through the screen. "Chris, that's _August_ ," she protested, sighing. "And besides, you know how your boss is more than I do. And I at least know that he's a jackass. He'll just guilt trip you into coming home early somehow."

She watched, distraught, as his shoulders moved up then down again in a limp shrug. "Well, then I'm stumped," he muttered, scratching the back of his head. "But I promise, I'll try to think of something, Ash. An excuse good enough for him to give a week off."

Ashley touched her hand to the glowing screen and whispered, "I'll try to think of something too…"

Her heart trembled as he lifted his hand so his fingertips touched hers. "I love you," he said.

Her vision had blurred too much; now he was just a smudge with beautiful blue eyes. "I love you so much."

 **January 23, 2021 – Green Bay**

Beth was under her boyfriend, her hands moving to slide his sweater off while he buried his face in her neck. She could feel the heat in her cheeks, and his steady breathing, coming out in little puffs, against her skin.

It was one in the afternoon, but hell, they were going to do whatever they wanted no matter the time of day.

"I—" she started, but then her phone dinged from its place on her nightstand. "Oh my God!" Beth gasped, turning so that her boyfriend lost his balance and fell off the bed onto the floor.

"Damn it, Beth, really?" he grumbled, sitting up and running his hand through his sandy-colored hair. "Since when is a phone chime more appealing to you than my mouth?"

Beth groaned, rolling onto her stomach so her back was to him. Her phone was in her hands and her fingers were flying over the keyboard as she typed. "Give me a break, Daniel. This isn't just any chime."

"Oh, really?" he challenged, crawling back up onto the bed beside her, his eyes wandering to her phone screen.

"Yes, really," Beth replied. She wasn't having it from him, not right now. "This text tone means that it's my sister, who hasn't spoken to me since July when I moved out, soooo… yeah. Kinda important."

Daniel's face wrinkled as he reached out a hand to stroke her straight black hair, which had been tossed over one shoulder after it fell out of a loose ponytail. "Sister?" he mused, squinting at the screen, which said _Hannah_ at the top. "Which sister is Hannah again?"

Beth chewed on her lip. "You've got to be kidding me!" When he didn't confirm this, her fingers began to move faster as she continued to type her very long message. "You ass. Hannah is my _twin_ sister, and also my _only_ sister."

"But—"

"And I have a _brother_ named _Josh_ in Seattle. That's it for siblings."

Daniel rolled onto his back, her sleek hair falling loosely like sand through his fingers. "Shit. Right. I'm sorry, babe."

Beth shook her head, not paying attention to him one hundred percent. "Yeah, it's fine. Because we've only been dating five months and it's not like I've ever told you about my family."

"I said I'm sorry, alright? Sheesh," Daniel grumbled. He sat up, taking a sip from the lukewarm water on his nightstand.

Beth glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, and promptly said, "I put that water there for you two weeks ago."

Spitting it back into the glass, he swore and stumbled out of the room, rubbing his eyes.

Completely refocusing on her phone, Beth hit send on the message she'd spent the last few minutes typing out.

 _Hannah: hey. We need to talk._

 _Beth: oh my god Hannah! I've missed you so much. I hope you're doing better since... the fight. Our fight. I never wanted things to turn out this way. But please, when you get a chance, call me, and we can talk about whatever you want._

Glad to be alone in the room, Beth got up and shut the door before sitting back down on the bed, crossing her legs and staring at her phone in front of her. She was ready anytime for her sister's call. Any time now…

About five minutes later, Hannah's name flashed on the screen while her phone buzzed. Beth's hand flew toward the green accept button, and slowly putting the phone up to her ear, she stammered, "H- hello?"

"Beth."

Hearing her twin's voice again almost made Beth melt into a puddle on that bed. "Hannah," she breathed, falling onto her back. "Listen, I—"

She could almost see Hannah's headshake as she was interrupted. "No, you need to listen to me. Beth, I have to warn you… earlier today this man called me."

"A man?" Beth stiffened. The only man Hannah ever wanted to talk about was Mike. Mike, Mike, Mike. Mr. Michael Munroe, sexy class president. Mr. Michael Munroe, with the warm brown eyes like a cup of steaming hot cocoa. All of these were Hannah's words, of course. The poor woman was obsessed, even to the point of imagining how her name would sound paired with his last name.

 _"Hannah Washington-Munroe? No, no. Hyphenating it would be too much of a mouthful. Just Hannah Munroe, then. That would work…"_

It was the reason Beth had moved out of the apartment they shared back in Spokane. She was fed up with her sister's infatuation that was reminiscent of their teenage years. Reminiscent of the prank that had almost gotten Beth and her sister killed, all because of pure humiliation and Hannah running blindly into the snowy woods late at night. If it wasn't for Sam bravely catching up to them and leading the way back to the lodge, they might not even be alive.

Beth refused to think of the _thing_ that had chased them on that night, exactly one year before the night from hell. And yet, as all of these thoughts rushed through her mind, a snippet of a horrific memory returned to her, and inside her something snapped.

"Hannah, what man?" she demanded, deciding to play innocent at first. If Hannah even started to mention Mike's name, she would hang up.

"He… he said he was from the Seattle Police Department," Hannah began. "Then he asked if I was Hannah Washington, I said yes. Then he demanded to know every detail I could scour from the depths of my mind about those two nights."

"February 2nd, 2014 a- and… February 2nd, 2015," Beth whispered.

"Yes," Hannah said. "Listen, Beth, I think I speak for almost everyone in the group when I say that I never want to even _think_ , let alone _speak_ about those nights, especially the second one. Yet still they haunt me every day. I've learned to control it a little, but still…"

Beth could hear her sister's shudder, and she gritted her teeth. "I'm totally with you, sis. Like hell I want to talk about that again. Besides, we told them everything we could remember, didn't we? I think everyone did."

Hannah sighed. "It's still not enough for this guy. He forced me to spill the beans, Beth, every last little goddamn bean. He didn't seem satisfied with what I told him; he just said, 'that will do, I suppose' and hung up."

Beth adjusted herself, and her head sank deeper into the pillow. "Why do they want to know about this shit six years later? The police in Blackwood didn't care at _all_ , just patched us up and sent us home. They only helpful thing _they_ did was take Sam's advice, go down to the mines, and recuse Josh before he… before he could…"

" _Don't_ say the word, Beth," Hannah begged. "Just please don't. They recovered all the evidence they could from down there, but it was still inconclusive. Just as long as Josh was rescued, we all silently agreed that… that no other human being ever deserves to go down there. Right?"

"Right," Beth agreed vehemently. "Now that we've all been safe since then, I've been trying to forget it," she added, her voice toning down significantly. "I— I haven't spoken to any of them in years, but… well…"

"I don't know how they've been doing either…" Hannah trailed off. "I kind of miss them, you know?"

Beth relaxed. Maybe if they just stepped around a certain brown-eyed elephant in the room, they could talk like normal sisters again. "Me too, Han. Me too."

 **January 29, 2021 – Chicago**

Deep within the cubicles of a tall, bland office building, Sam was hunched over her computer, blinking rapidly as she refused sleep. There was no way she could fall asleep now, when she was so close to being finished…

"Hey, Samantha, dear," a voice called from somewhere in the distance. Frowning slightly, she shook her head and tried to ignore it, as if it were an annoying fly.

The voice seemed to loom closer, until finally a louder shout of "Hey, _Samantha_!" brought her back to reality.

Startled, Sam jumped a little in her chair and spun around, glaring harshly at the owner of the voice. "Jeremy, I have told you so many times, I don't like my full name. Call me Sam, for God's sake."

Jeremy laughed, ruffling his light brown hair. "Fine, Sam-I-Am—"

"No…," Sam corrected him, spinning halfway back so that she could key in a few more numbers. "Just _Sam_. Or if you're having trouble with that, by all means, call me by my last name."

"But you don't look like a Giddings to me, Sam, dear," Jeremy said, grinning slyly as she slowly turned back toward him. "Your name would sound a whole lot better with my surname at the end of it."

"Oh, please," Sam scoffed. She was constantly rejecting his advances; by now it was part of the daily grind. "I don't think Sam Kline has quite the right ring to it, you know?" she teased, once again facing her computer so he couldn't see her small smile.

Jeremy leaned into her cubicle, letting his arms swing down as he messed with a page of her wall calendar. "You do know it's almost nine, right?"

Sam nodded absently, quickly becoming engrossed with her work again. When a lock of blonde hair fell out of her loose bun and into her face, she automatically brushed it away. "Of course I— wait, _what_?" After typing in a few more items, she scrambled for her phone, which was buried in her purse so that she wouldn't get distracted. "Nine? You've got to be—"

Sure enough, the screen glowed before her, showing 8:57. She didn't want to look up, fully knowing her coworker's face would have a proud smirk upon it. "I can give you a ride home, Sam. Then you won't have to take a taxi like you always do," Jeremy suggested.

"Shit," Sam breathed, his offer going in one ear and right out the other. "Forgive me, Romeo, but I've gotta get going. I have the graveyard shift at the 24-hour café in an hour and if I'm late again I'll lose my job, and I need that job, or else I'll…" She trailed off from her rambling when Jeremy stepped in front of her, sympathy in his eyes.

"Sam," he insisted. "Please. Let me give you a ride somewhere. We can rest, talk for a bit, before you go to your next shift."

She hesitated, blinking up at his insistent blue eyes. "No, I couldn't—"

"Not even an hour," Jeremy said. "Just, you know, try me out, and you might actually like me after all. If not, I'll drop you off at the café and I'll never try to seduce you again."

Her brow arched. " _Never_ again?" A playful smirk fought to be seen on her lips. "Well, I can't say no to that, now can I?"

Twenty minutes later, they were climbing out of Jeremy's shiny silver Nissan. As Sam's feet landed on the curb, she stared with confusion at the restaurant that lay before them.

"Jeremy, I don't have time for a sit-down place…" she said, stopping on the sidewalk to fix her hair, which had barely been staying in a fraying bun the last few hours.

The dark-haired man stopped as he locked his car, staring as her wavy, chest-length hair fell down her upper back. Then Sam gathered it up, tying it back into a ponytail.

As she straightened, she blinked at him, eyebrows raised expectantly. "Hello?"

"Er, uh," he stammered, shaking his head a little, "This isn't a sit-down place. Or… well, it's a sit-down place that won't take forever."

"If you say so," she sighed, and together they walked in.

They sat down in a booth that faced a small side street. Jeremy ordered a cup of hot decaf, and Sam got a cup of regular to prepare herself for the shift ahead.

"Alright, so," Jeremy began as their cups were placed in front of them a few minutes later. He drank his coffee straight from the cup, but Sam stirred some cream and sugar into hers, tiredly watching the swirl of white blend in.

"So?"

"So with every date— or, you know, meet-and-greet, or something like that, with a woman, I like to ask some questions specifically about her. Just to get to… know her better from things I've already gathered. Okay?"

She grinned stiffly at him, glancing up briefly from her steaming coffee. "Um, okay…"

"Why did you move to Chicago?"

"I was… ready to move on, I guess, from the past. I wanted to start fresh in a different city, and Chicago seemed like the best fit for me."

"Why do you always wear your hair up?"

Sam looked at him, puzzled, as she took a long sip of her coffee. "Well, I guess it's just to keep it out of the way, or… or something."

"Why do you do this to yourself?"

She tensed, keeping her cold hands firmly wrapped around the hot cup. "What?"

"Samantha, you're killing yourself. Juggling two jobs, and between that getting to spend maybe a few hours at home to _sleep_? You're clearly exhausted; I can see the light is gone from your eyes. Look, I can help you. I could, you know, get you _up_ to a higher position at work, then you could quit that other job. All I would need in return is a little… a little pick-me-up, you see?"

Irritation surged through her, and her exhausted head pounded. "Are you kidding me, asshat? Do you really think I'd be willing to sleep with you just to get a promotion? I get promotions based on hard work and earning it. Not to mention that I actually _prefer_ my café job because one, you're not there, and two, you're not there! And for the last goddamn time, call me _Sam_."

"Hold on…" he said, beginning to stand as she gathered up her things. "It would just be a quick—"

Getting to her feet, she snatched her wallet out of her purse and slapped down a twenty on the table before turning on her heel and walking out, calling after her, "Keep the change, creep."

Sam was at least relieved to discover that she was only three blocks from the café. Gratefully she slipped into the empty eatery, stepping behind the counter and, after making sure there were absolutely no customers around, she slid down behind the counter and buried her face in her hands. She wasn't one to cry often, but right now she was pretty damn close.


	4. Been a While

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* * *

 **February 2nd, 2021 – Seattle**

Josh stared down at his phone, his thumbs poised over the keyboard. "Come on," he muttered to himself. "Why are you so nervous?"

Swallowing some of his fear, he slowly began to add names to a group text.

Beth. Hannah. Chris. Ashley. Matt. Emily. Mike. Jessica. Sam…

And then he began to type.

 _Josh: Hey, everyone. Hope I still have the right numbers here. I know it's been a while… way too long, actually. I did some crazy ass shit, unforgivable shit, shit I'll never forgive myself for. But I spent time in a mental hospital for over a year after that night six years ago— I promise you I did, it's recorded in multiple places. I was released only when I was on a steady supply of meds, which I am delighted to say have completely regulated my state of mind. I can lead a normal life, as long as I stick to my daily med regimen, and of course go to appointments every now and then._

 _The reason I decided to text you all again… and trust me, I'm nearly pissing myself right now out of fear for your replies… is because I'd like to invite you all to Seattle, where I live, for a week, or less, depending on how long you can get away from your obligations. Now I know, this all sounds eerily familiar, right? An invitation from Josh for a time of fun! But I swear to God, cross my heart and hope to die, that I will NEVER harm you guys again. My chest hurts just thinking of the unimaginable hell I put you all through. I understand if you can't make this because of work or something, but please, try to come, even if you don't see yourself forgiving me anytime soon. I just want to see your faces again. You guys were my friends, my best friends, my only friends. I became so unhinged over revenge and over a near-death experience that I didn't even experience that I lost sight of what was really important to me: your friendship._

 _So all I ask is PLEASE, if at all possible, to fly/drive in to Seattle on March 7th. I can pay for any airfare if I need to; I've been saving my paychecks for a while now. I will pay for all lodging. Yes, I do work at Target, but I have been saving paychecks for a LONG time._

 _I hope I'll see you all in a little over a month. -Josh_

Another nervous breath rattled through his lungs. He could feel the shudder of anxiety pass through his body, his frayed nerves making his fingertips tingle as he hit the send button. Now all he could do was wait.

And wait he did. God, how he waited and waited. It was an hour and three minutes later when the first reply came in.

He couldn't help but let his heart fall a little when he saw that it was only one of his sisters.

 _Beth: Hey, Josh. I guess most of that spiel was for the others, since Han and I saw you last Thanksgiving, but… thanks. I'll be able to make it, but the only issue I have is if I can bring my boyfriend Daniel? I totally get it if it would cost too much with airfare to fly him in too, so I'm fine coming alone_

Josh scanned over her words a few more times until the image of the gray speech bubble was engrained in his mind. He started to type that he wasn't sure he could afford an extra person when another message from Beth popped up.

 _Beth: Actually, nvm. If Daniel is allowed to come, he said he can pay his own way. But again, if you all want it to just be the original group, then it's fine_

Minutes later, the replies started coming in. It was like a dam had broken in the cyber world.

 _Hannah: Count me in too. I'll drive in from Spokane and time it so I arrive around the same time as everyone else_

 _Beth: Awesome, Han. I can't wait to see you again. It's been too long!_

 _Hannah: Well I did see you in Nov, it was just that we ignored each other lol_

 _Beth: Right._

 _Chris: Wow! Hey, everyone. Josh, I'm pleasantly surprised you didn't delete any of our numbers after all this time. But yeah, I'm definitely up for it, if I can get away from work for a few days. Are you sure you're up for paying for air travel?_

 _Josh: I'm glad to hear my favorite sisters can make it! And yes, as long as everyone else agrees, Daniel is welcome. And hi, Chris. I've missed you a lot. Yes, I'm up for paying for EVERYTHING_

 _Hannah: …we're your only sisters_

 _Beth: Great! I'll tell Dan_

 _Jessica: Holy. Shit. I knew I couldn't be crazy for keeping all your numbers_

 _Mike: Jess and I are soooooo in like oh my god_

 _Jessica: She stole my phone, okay? I'm Mike and Mike is Jess_

 _Mike: You're too confusing, smoochie-kins!_

 _Jessica: When did we turn into teenagers? And please never call me smoochie-kins again_

 _Chris: Cut it out, you lovebirds. I look forward to seeing you both :)_

 _Josh: Agreed ^_

 _Mike: Ok, now Mike is Mike. Dude are you sure you're fine paying for everything?_

 _Ashley: This better not be a prank…_

 _Josh: It's not. My slate has been clean for five years, I would never joke about this. and yes I'm sure_

 _Ashley: Ok, then I'll come_

 _Chris: ASH! Then maybe…_

 _Ashley: We'll get to see each other!_

 _Josh: And suddenly I feel very alone lol_

 _Matt: I'm so in, I'll totally be able to get off work for this! See you then, guys_

 _Josh: Awesome!_

For a while the messages slowed and then dwindled to nothing. Josh was just about as happy as he'd ever been.

But there was still something missing.

 **February 2nd, 2021 – New York**

The second Emily was home, Matt pounced onto her, holding her tight in his arms.

"What is this about?" Emily said, her eyebrows raised in surprise. He didn't answer, still clinging to her until she made a choking sound.

"You're gonna have to take a week away from work, Em," Matt announced, gliding halfway across the small apartment on his socked feet until he arrived back at the kitchen counter.

"And why's that?" she asked nonchalantly, taking a seat at one of the bar stools and disdainfully eyeing the mess on the stove.

He grinned. "Because we're goin' to Seattle!" Turning back to the stove, he flipped over a burnt, haphazardly-shaped hamburger.

Emily laughed. "You're joking." Slowly pulling her phone out of her purse, she turned it on.

"Yeah, you'll see what I'm talking about in a sec," Matt said, still maintaining his smile as he leaned across her arms for his half-drunk beer bottle.

Emily slowly began scrolling through all of the texts, her jaw dropped. "What are all these numbers?" she demanded.

Before Matt could explain, she quickly sent out a text.

 _Emily: ?_

"Hold your horses," Matt said, stumbling over to her and snatching her phone from her.

"Matthew!" Emily warned, but he'd already sent something by the time he gave it back.

 _Emily: I'm in! Yayyyyy!_

Matt watched as Emily scrolled through again, her forehead wrinkled as she carefully read through the lines. "Why did you lie— what— oh my God…" she muttered when she was finished.

"The old group," Matt said.

Emily's frown deepened until she was scowling. "I'm not ready to face them again quite yet. Why do you think I deleted their numbers a couple years ago? I… I gave up."

Killing the flame on the stove, Matt walked over behind her and rubbed her shoulders. "But now Josh has faith in us again! And everyone seems up for it except Sam, but she just hasn't replied yet. You'll be able to come, right?"

"Well, of course you will, since you sit on your butt all day. It'll be a change of pace for you," Emily snapped.

A while ago this would've offended and hurt Matt, but now it was as if a protective barrier had formed around his heart. Shrugging it off, he pulled her in closer. Her dark hair tickled his cheek. It smelled like coconut, and he grinned again in spite of himself. "Right?" he prodded.

"Yeah, I've been kissing my boss's ass for a few months now with barely a day off. It's gotta be illegal if he doesn't let me go for a week," she gave in, and he felt her tensed muscles relax a little.

"Good—"

"But, I mean, I'll still probably have to step away for a conference call or something at some point when we're there, but otherwise, I'll be free," Emily finished. Turning her head a little, she pecked him on the cheek before standing.

Like an obedient puppy, Matt followed her over to the stove. "I tried to make dinner," he told her as she stared apprehensively at the unidentified food object in the skillet. "Key word being tried." He stepped forward and poked at it with the spatula. It sizzled, bubbles forming then popping around the uneven edges.

"Okay, well, first off, from my knowledge, hamburgers shouldn't look like hockey pucks," Emily stated, gingerly picking it up and tossing it in the trash.

"Hey!" Matt protested half-heartedly.

She snorted at him, smirking. "Hey, if you want to eat it, be my guest."

He closed his mouth, lowering his poised hand and setting down the greasy skillet.

"So I suppose you don't know any more about cooking than I do," Emily concluded, grabbing her bag and heading toward the door. "This is why we get takeout." She kicked her high heels to the side, trading them for a pair of comfier flats. "Thai?"

"I was thinking Chinese," Matt protested, crossing his arms and arching his brow at her from across the room.

He knew Emily wouldn't budge easily. "Thai," she said again.

"Chinese," he grumbled.

" _Thai_."

"Chi— ah, fuck it… Thai."

"Thank you, sweetheart," Emily said sweetly, closing the door behind her.

 **February 5th, 2021 – Spokane**

Hannah was driving in her ancient Honda, on her way home from work. The tiny blue car, in the eyes of anyone besides Hannah, was clearly on its last legs. The engine made a wheezing sound instead of a purr when it was started up. The key hung limply out of the ignition like a cord plugged into a broken outlet. The paint was chipped and worn at certain places, like the hood and the driver's door handle. The windshield wipers squeaked loudly in pain during rainstorms.

But despite all this, Hannah loved her little Civic, and she wouldn't trade it for the newest Audi. She was always stubborn these days, ever since she grew a more protective skin after that prank on the mountain seven years ago. She couldn't be the gullible twin anymore. And she was fairly sure she'd established that she was far from that by now.

She wanted to be the stronger twin. It made sense, didn't it? After all, she was a whole three minutes older than Beth.

That was when her car's dashboard began to ring. She could feel the vibration in her hands as the loud sound started to overtake the puny roller-skate of a car. "Ugh," she groaned, and reached forward to hit the accept button on the flickering screen.

The only time Hannah had ever dropped a bundle of money on this car was when she decided to finally have a Bluetooth system installed a few years ago. It took a few tries for the man to get all of the wires connected just right for a screen in a fifteen-year-old car. But the sixth time was the charm, and after an additional hundred bucks so the guy wouldn't give up, the thing finally seemed to work.

Hannah didn't glance at the caller ID, keeping her eyes firmly on the road as the skies opened up. "Dammit!" she cursed, turning on her wipers. The deafening _squelching_ sound commenced as rain battered the sides of the car.

"Well, then, hello to you too!"

Hannah barely heard the voice, but she still recognized it in an instant. "Sam!"

"That's me! Is it raining there?"

Hannah laughed, sliding her glasses up her nose a bit. "Yeah, how could you tell."

"There's no mistaking the squeaking of your wipers. Jesus, it sounds like someone stepping on a hamster over and over," Sam teased, and Hannah rolled her eyes.

"Wow, you're definitely not the person I'd expect to hear _that_ from. And besides, give the ol' Civic a break," Hannah protested. "She's working hard." After a moment of hesitation, the rain lightened a little and Hannah could turn down the strength of the wipers. "Thank God," she muttered. "Alright, so. Let's get down to business. Why the hell haven't you replied to Josh's invite yet?"

She could hear the crackle over the line as her best friend sighed. Out of everyone in the group, Hannah had been most inclined to hang around Sam. She was the level-headed peacemaker, the easiest one to confide in. But for once, the tables had turned; this time, Sam was the troubled one.

"That's what I was calling about," Sam finally said, and Hannah could picture her messing with her hair like she always did when anxious.

"Look, Sam, it's been three days since he sent it out," Hannah stated, slowing down for a red light. "Some of the others have already been asking why you haven't replied yet. Ash even called me."

"I know, I know. Trust me, don't you think I've been added to about fifty other different group chats asking if I'm dead?" Sam said. Hannah always marveled how in any situation, the blonde still somehow managed to keep her voice level and calm, as if she were discussing the day's weather.

The light turned into a bleeding green dot on the car's rain-flecked windshield, and the rusty Honda puttered onward. "Well, then is something the matter?" Hannah paused, swallowing. "Wait… did you get a call?"

"A call?"

"From… from the Seattle Police Department."

Silence. "Oh… yeah, yeah. I did," Sam replied. "Squeezed all the info he could out of me about those hellish nights."

Hannah reached up and rubbed one of her temples. "Look, I— I still will never be able to thank you enough for saving my life, and Beth's life, seven years ago. If you hadn't gone out after us…" she trailed off, unable to think of how much more south that night could have went.

Sam laughed grimly, but it did nothing to shake away the gloom that had settled over them. "Hey, don't mention it. Really— please don't. I know we've all tried to forget about those nights on that cursed mountain. So I'm guessing you got a call too?"

"Yes, and so has everyone else. Haven't you been reading the main group chat?" Hannah said sharply. She immediately winced after her words came out, not having intended for her tone to sound so harsh.

Sam spoke at a snail's pace. "I… yeah, I… have been," she admitted. "I've been… lurking in the background, I guess. But I just don't know what to say, Han. I feel like I'm back in high school, with all these group chats and awkwardness!"

Hannah nodded even if her friend couldn't see it. "Tell me about it." Flipping on her turn signal, she turned down the narrow road that was her apartment building's street. "Look, I know why you're so scared to reply—"

"It's not what you think—"

"Yes, it is, Sam," Hannah interrupted, backing into a space that barely fit her car. "You know it as well as I do. Just tell my brother that you'll be there. You'll be able to go, right?" Right before she turned off the rumbling motor, she transferred the call from the dashboard to her phone.

"Yeah, I think I might quit one of my jobs anyway," Sam muttered. Now that the car's shuddering engine was off, Hannah could really hear how worn Sam's voice sounded. There was almost a rasp, like she had a sore throat. "I've spread myself too thin for these jobs. Staying late at one thing, then right away going to the other thing for a late shift. I haven't had a full eight hours' sleep since who knows when."

Hannah's eyes doubled in size as she climbed the stairs to her third-floor apartment. "Christ, Sam! You'll collapse from exhaustion soon and never wake up. Please promise me that you'll do what is right, okay?"

Sam snorted. "Wow, thanks for the advice, hon."

"Hey, you know I suck at advice. But really, promise me, okay?" Hannah insisted, opening the door.

"Yeah, I promise."


	5. Paralyzed

**Thank you so much for the additional faves and follows, and the enthusiastic reviews :) I'm glad you like it**

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 **March 7, 2021 – Seattle**

"Alright, so, I was talking to the guys, and we were thinking that the four, er, five of us could meet up for a few drinks before the entire group reunites," Mike said, heaving the strap of his navy blue backpack further up his shoulder.

Jess stared at him as they walked through the terminal. It had been a long flight; after being delayed an hour, they finally took off from Pittsburgh at 3:30. Now, five hours later, she felt just about ready to stretch out in a corner of the busy airport and sleep. "Whatever," she muttered, dragging her suitcase over a rough patch of floor. "I'll have so much fun meeting up with a group of women I haven't spoken to in person for six years."

Mike didn't say anything for a moment, instead tilting his head to look up at a sign showing incoming flights. "Damn, I think we're the last ones here." Looking back at his girlfriend he half-smiled. "Hey, perk up. Remember, it's only 5:30 here. And besides, it's our old circle of friends! It'll be like old times."

"Old times?" Jess grumbled. "Michael, the last time we saw these people was that night six years ago. The night where we were all scarred physically and emotionally. It took me two years of therapy to get adjusted back to reality!"

They stopped at a group of seats, and Jess threw herself down on one, resting her forehead in the palms of her hands. "Babe, I know you hate this question, but… are you okay?" Mike asked, sitting down next to her and resting his arm over her shoulders.

"I just feel like shit. Headache," she sighed. "I'm sorry. I guess it's from being crammed into a plane for almost five hours. At least we didn't have to pay for it." Grinning a little, she lifted her head to kiss Mike's stubbly jawline. "When you see Josh, tell him thank you again."

"Will do," Mike agreed. Glancing around, recognition suddenly lit up in his eyes. Rising to his feet, he gestured in the direction of a diner. "Hey, I think the other ladies are waiting for you."

Jess reluctantly stood as well, and followed his gaze to where she immediately saw Ashley and Sam. "Oh, my God. It's really them," she whispered. Mike gave her one more squeeze, then headed off in the direction where the guys were supposed to meet.

Taking a deep breath, she walked into the restaurant.

 **Ashley**

Ashley couldn't really think straight. Her mind was buzzing and her nerves were alive. All she could focus on was the fact that Chris was here, somewhere in this airport. In the same building. Breathing the same air. For the first time in two years, less than a mile away from her.

But for now, she was with the girls. For some reason, it had been Beth's brilliant idea for the girls and guys to meet up separately beforehand.

"I just want the men to get accustomed to Daniel first," Beth had told them sheepishly as they all slid into the diner booth. "He kind of has a… _strong_ personality, you could say."

Now, twenty minutes later, the only person missing was Jess. Ashley stared at her fingers, resisting the urge to pick at her freshly-painted nails. They were a matte sky blue color, the same shade as _his_ eyes.

"So, Ash," Emily drawled, snapping her fingers in the redhead's face. "Evidently, you're still into those beanies of yours."

Ashley jumped as Emily's hand receded from her face. "… what?" she muttered.

Sam frowned over at Emily. "Cut her some slack, Em. You know she hasn't seen her boyfriend in a couple years."

"Clearly she's excited," Hannah added.

"Y- yeah, I'm sorry," Ashley said, slowly looking from person to person. "I am thinking about Chris. It's been so long…"

Fortunately for Ashley, Emily had her attention turned elsewhere now. "I wonder where Miss Jessica is," she said scornfully, her face wrinkled like she was tasting something sour. "I bet she's been living it large in Pittsburgh with Mike, huh? One-bedroom apartment and all."

Emily was laughing hysterically, too busy to notice that Jess had materialized at her side. Ashley got a good look at her old friend, as did everyone else.

Jess, too, looked mostly the same after six years. Her blonde hair was a little bit longer, tamed by a fishtail braid that trailed past her right shoulder. Ashley's eyes were drawn to the faint scars under one of her eyes, but she forced herself to look away.

"Move over, Em, will ya?" Jess snapped, though her tone was lackluster. "Or are you too concerned talking shit about other people to scoot your ass?"

Ashley lifted her clasped hands in front of her mouth so she could hide her grin. There was the Jess they all knew.

"Calm yourself," Emily replied, and she and Beth moved over to make room. Ashley noticed that Emily didn't quite seem finished speaking, and yet nothing else left her mouth.

"Soo…" Sam said, exchanging glances with Ashley. "How has Pittsburgh treated you and Mike?"

Jess shrugged, fishing through her purse for something. "It's been fine. We live in a _house_. And Mike works at a brewery."

Emily was silent, scowling at the table.

Just then, a waitress walked up to them, friendly and smiling. "Is your entire party here now?"

"Yes," Beth answered.

"So how about we start with drinks?"

Jess finally found what she was looking for, and smeared on some lip balm. Glancing at the waitress, she said, "Just a water, please. No lemon."

Ashley ordered a water as well, while the rest of the drinks ranged from Diet Coke to Sprite to lemonade.

Later, when it came time to order food, Ashley got a salad alongside Sam. Jess was staring at her lap, her water untouched, and insisted she wasn't hungry. Emily demanded for her to scoot out so she could go use the restroom.

The second Emily had turned the corner, Jess's head flew up and she let out an enormous, pained sigh.

Hannah looked at her, one eyebrow raised. "Are you alright?"

"No, I'm not," Jess muttered. "I feel like someone's pounding the inside of my skull with a hammer."

"God!" Ashley exclaimed. "Here, I have some aspirin," she quickly added as she remembered the small bottle she always kept in her purse.

"Thank you," the blonde said, relief entwined in her words. A few minutes later, she'd swallowed two white pills.

Emily returned, and the group sat in silence, chewing uncomfortably.

 **Chris**

Chris was sitting in an airport bar. All around him was the hum of background noise, multiple people talking at once, suitcase wheels rolling over the floor. On one side of him was Matt, taking the first sip of his second drink. On his other side was Daniel, Beth's new-ish boyfriend.

Daniel was talking, but Chris didn't, or couldn't, really hear him. Even when Mike found them, and Chris received a slap on the back in greeting, it didn't wake him out of his daze.

Chris only tuned in to the conversation around him when he heard a voice that was so familiar, and yet he hadn't heard it in years.

"Josh!" Mike exclaimed, and Chris spun around on his stool.

There he was. Decked out in a dark green plaid shirt and jeans, Josh wasn't exactly dressed up for the occasion. Then again, neither was Chris, he reminded himself as he briefly looked down at his plain light blue button down. His girlfriend also crossed his mind at that moment. Would Ashley like this shirt? Would she notice his new glasses?

"Hey, Josh," Chris said, politely offering his hand for his old best friend to shake. Josh's dark eyes flitted over Chris as their hands met.

"Guys, I cannot even begin to express how… how thrilled I am that you're all here," Josh said. Chris could sense the genuineness and warmth in his voice. He seemed completely fine. He was so much more _real_ than on that night, in his welcome video that he'd sent out to all of them.

Matt shook Josh's hand after Chris, and he nodded his head in greeting. "It's cool to be here again."

Matt moved down a place, and Josh sat down to Chris's right. It wasn't even thirty seconds later, once Mike and Matt were in their own conversation and Daniel was sullenly staring at the counter, that Josh said, "There's something up with you, man."

Chris wasn't quite sure how to react to this accusation. His natural response was to deny it, but before he could shoot him down he blurted out, "There's something up with you _too_."

Josh laughed anxiously. "How did you guess? Nah, I'm fine, though, really—"

"No, wait…" Chris said slowly, turned so that he was directly facing Josh and could scrutinize him. "Ohhhhhh, I know why you're so—"

Josh immediately interrupted him, a blush rushing into his cheeks. "It's not what you think…"

"Yes, it is, bro," Chris said, stifling a laugh. This really was just like old times, wasn't it? Picking on each other, and for exactly the same reason. "You know it as well as I do."

Tilting his head back, Josh lifted his glass to his lips and downed the rest of his drink while Chris watched with a mixture of awe and concern. "Phew, I needed that," Josh breathed, looking fleetingly at his friend's expression. "What? There was just a sip left. I'm done now. But anyway, please… don't tell her, or anyone."

Chris lifted his eyebrows, forcing back a smirk. _It'll only upset him more if I'm not serious._ "So… you're just going to ignore your feelings like before?"

"I'll deal with it, okay?" Josh grumbled, propping his head on his hand.

"You can't just 'deal with' love," Chris pointed out, patting the other man's back gently. "You gotta confront it, dude. Like I'm about to."

He barely noticed the confusion cloud Josh's eyes. "About to…?"

Chris got up from his seat, ditching the chili fries he'd been munching on. His legs were suddenly reduced to Jell-O, but somehow he forced himself to take one step, then another.

Every other person in the airport faded away, and in this room full of people, it was just them. No nervous Josh. No pouty Daniel. No Mike and Matt, no arguing over sports. There was no other woman in that room except for her.

Now, of course, Chris had seen her recently, but that was through a screen. In person, she was even more gorgeous. Her red hair was long and wavy, sleek and shiny, tumbling past her shoulders. Under the red striped beanie was a flawless face: rosy cheeks, glittering green eyes that reminded him of dewdrops early in the morning. Then there were her lips, coated with a layer of pale pink lipstick. He wanted those lips on his, that lipstick smeared all over his mouth, cheeks, neck, anywhere.

The slow motion ended, and within seconds Ashley had arrived in his arms. First, the embrace, her heart thumping hard against his. And then she pulled back; one shared look told Chris everything, and together they leaned in, lips locked and eyes closed. He just focused on the divine, indescribable pleasure that came from resting his hands on her slim waist, and the tingly feeling that accompanied her fingers tracing the outline of his face.

There was no doubt in his mind that she was his soulmate. And yet, even as bliss filled him from head to toe in the middle of an airport at seven thirty in the evening, he couldn't help but wonder.

How could he tell her that he no longer had a job?

 **Josh**

"About to…?"

Josh twisted around, watching bewilderedly as Chris left his seat and ran over to Ashley.

Wait, Ashley!

Josh flew out of his seat, craning his neck to see around the currently making out Chris and Ashley.

Mike, Matt, and Daniel walked past him, rejoining their girlfriends. Their girlfriends who they had already seen today, their girlfriends who they had gotten to see every day for the past several months or years.

Josh was conspicuously aware of the sounds Chris and Ash were making next to him. He was about to tell them to cut it out, but luckily they broke apart right then.

"Chili breath," Ashley giggled, clinging to her boyfriend like he was a cliff edge.

Chris smirked, and Josh tried not to groan as he whispered seductively in her ear, "I guess you could say I'm… _spicy_."

Josh couldn't take their flirting anymore. Eagerly, he extracted himself from their not-so-personal-space bubble and made his way over to the others.

His heart sunk into his stomach. She wasn't here. But she said she would be here!

He faintly registered the touch of a hand on his shoulder, and looked down to see Hannah grinning at him. "She was just buying gum. She'll be here in a sec," his sister whispered, stepping away.

Josh glared at her. How could she have possibly figured him out too? Her only response to his dirty look was an exaggerated wink.

Everyone began to mingle, but the conversations went right over Josh's head. He couldn't even think of speaking until he knew for sure that she was here.

 _Maybe she's changed in five-and-a-half years. Maybe she's turned into a bitchy carbon copy of Emily. Maybe she dyed her hair orange and got drastic plastic surgery. Maybe she—_

But there was no way in hell that she'd changed one bit. Josh knew this as she turned the corner, her blue floral print bag slung over one shoulder. Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun like always, a few loose strands framing her face. Her bright hazel eyes landed on Hannah first, and with a petite smile she waved a pack of gum in the air.

"Here's your gum, lazy," she teased, handing the pack to Hannah. But Hannah was frozen like Josh was. The only difference was that she seemed to remember how to breathe.

Hannah's eyes locked with Josh's, and the other woman followed her line of sight until she, too, was gazing into Josh's paralyzed face.

"Josh," Sam murmured. She was in front of him within a few long strides. Awkwardly she lifted her hand like she wanted him to shake it, but then it turned into a hug. As he was enclosed in her arms, he took a deep breath, pushing air into then out of his lungs.

"Hey," he said, returning the embrace for a few seconds before she stepped back, scanning him up and down momentarily.

The moment was shattered by Mike's yell from where he was holding the door to outside. "We going or not, guys?"

Emily linked her arm into Matt's and marched out the door, calling over her shoulder, "Chris and Ash, feel free to resume sucking each other's faces off _later_ when you get your own room, and preferably not now in the middle of the airport!" The newly-reunited couple blushed profusely and trailed her out the door.

Sam offered Josh one last tiny grin before she turned away, rejoining Hannah's side and popping a piece of gum into her mouth. Josh let out a slow breath.

Holy shit. She was still the same Sam. How could he have lucked out this much?


	6. Dream

**Thanks for the support! Love you guys.**

* * *

 **Mike**

Mike unfolded himself and climbed out of Hannah's clown car, helping Jess out after him. She looked even more green in the face than before.

"So I guess being sandwiched between you Matt wasn't the best solution for my headache," Jess told him as she stepped up onto the curb.

"I thought you took a couple aspirin?" Mike replied as they followed the group out of the parking lot.

"Yes, but surprisingly painkillers don't solve everything," she said bitterly, crossing her arms and hunching her shoulders against the nippy air.

A few minutes later, everyone was standing in the lobby of a grand, yet quaint old hotel. A sizeable fireplace was at the back near the check-in desks, while a small café was on the other side, almost hidden behind the many armchairs and coffee tables set up around the large room.

"This hotel here," Josh was saying as he led them over to a check-in desk, "is a prime example of classic Seattle. Everything here is so contemporary these days, so I thought you might like a change of pace by staying here in this gem."

Mike and Jess shared a room between Sam's and Hannah's. Once Mike entered it, he suddenly could understand how Josh was able to afford this place.

"'Gem' my ass," Mike said, snorting as he gladly let his bag fall to the floor. "The layer of dust over everything in this room is thicker than the mattress!"

"Shut up," Jess breathed, laying down on the bed with her arms and legs splayed out. "As long as it has heat, I can live with it for a week."

Mike frowned, studying a long crack in the ceiling. "Shit, that's right. We'll be here a week. Guess we'll have to get used to our new neighbor Mr. Spider—"

Jess shot upright and pinned herself against the bed's headboard. " _Spider_?" she shrieked.

Mike pointed up at a corner between the wall and the ceiling, where sure enough a dime-sized spider was resting on its web.

"Shiiiiiit…" Jess whined, and Mike took the opportunity to crawl onto the bed beside her and hold her in his arms. "Wait. You know what? No. I've seen much worse than a spider," she said a few moments later. After a couple more deep breaths, she relaxed against him.

Mike rested his chin on her silky hair. "Then why are you still melting into me like a scared puddle?"

She reached up to playfully punch his cheek. "Because you're a big, soft pillow. That's why, Michael."

 **March 9, 2021 – Emily**

"I still feel like fifty percent of the air we're breathing is actually dust," Emily complained, leaning closer to the bathroom mirror as she applied mascara. "And _why_ did I buy the lumpy mascara again… I forgot I hated this brand."

"Dust and lumpy mascara are minor things, babe," Matt said, grabbing the wall for support as he leaned into the open doorway. "Besides, think of all the fun shopping you get to do today! Stay focused on that."

Emily groaned. "I'm not a child. I can be as cynical as I like," she retorted, closing up her makeup bag and flicking his ear on her way out.

Everyone else was down in the lobby waiting except for Jess. "Where the hell is she?" Emily demanded after five minutes of slouching in the armchairs.

"Yeah, Josh had to _walk_ a few blocks to this lobby and he still got here first," Hannah agreed without looking up from her phone.

"Hey, give my girlfriend a break," Mike said, narrowing his eyes at Hannah and Em. "She said she left something in the room, and she'll be here any minute now." Hannah seemed to shrink under Mike's glare like an ashamed puppy, and Emily tried not to scoff.

"I'm sorry guys," Jess said breathlessly, rushing out of the elevator while still running a brush through her straightened hair.

The group wandered out into the chilly streets, glancing in shop windows for a while, until eventually the guys split up from the girls. This left Emily without a warm boyfriend to hold on to when the breeze picked up. _Dammit,_ she thought to herself. _I'll turn into a Popsicle._

They turned onto a less busy street, and Ashley slowed down in front of a window displaying a bridal gown.

"Do you… want to go in?" Beth asked, glancing from Ashley's daydreaming face to the gown in the window.

Ashley only replied after Sam nudged her. "No, I'm fine," she sighed. "It's just, you know, I've always dreamed of the perfect wedding."

"Here we go again," Emily said, hiding her face behind her hand.

"Your day will come," Jess assured her as she stood shivering in front of the window. "All of our days will come at some point."

"Not everyone's," Hannah muttered, and Emily watched as she put her hand on the door to go into the bridal shop.

"Wait, so we're going in?" Sam asked.

Ashley grinned mischievously. "I wish…"

"Alright," Hannah said, slowly walking forward. "I guess we're not, then."

"Hell, we might as well do it," Emily piped up, to everyone's obvious surprise. "What could go wrong if we try on a few dresses for shits and giggles?"

They walked in, and Emily embraced the blast of warmth like she was stepping into a steaming hot shower after a long day. _Thank God._

A girl probably not older than seventeen was hunched over the counter, eyes glued to her phone and rap music leaking out of her earbuds. The bell on the door was loud enough to capture her attention however, and she sat up a little to greet the group.

"Hey. Reservation or nah?"

Ashley stepped forward timidly. "Uh… are you the owner…?"

"No, that's my mom," the teen replied, rolling up a stick of Juicy Fruit and popping it into her mouth.

"And where is your mom?"

"Out. Look, do you have a reservation or not?"

Ashley turned her head slightly so she could look at the others. "Maybe this was a mistake—" she whispered.

"Oh, please," Emily interrupted, maneuvering herself between Ashley and the front desk girl. "Alright, look," she began, waiting until the teenager's bored eyes were on her. "We don't have a reservation, but we're just a bunch of old friends out shopping. We really liked that dress your mom has in the window out front, and—"

"So?"

" _And_ I'll give you my bracelet if you let us try on a few things. It'll be quick, just for fun," Emily finished quickly, yanking the cuff bracelet she had on her wrist and dangling it in front of the teen's face.

She sat up all the way, taking out one earbud and snatching the bracelet, moving it back and forth in the light. "Sterling?" she asked.

"Sterling," Emily confirmed impatiently.

"Then you've got a deal," she decided, pocketing the bracelet and raking over the group with an aloof stare. "My mom will be back in about thirty minutes." She jerked her thumb towards the back of the shop, and at Ashley's squeal all six of them rushed back into the wonderful world of colorful silk and satin.

Sam fell into step with Emily in the back, rolling her eyes. "I guess I'm not too surprised that you're the master of bribery, Em."

Emily chuckled. "Well, how do you think I get Matt to forgive me after a fight? I bribe him with Chinese food!"

 **Matt**

Matt gazed up at the sky, watching the dark storm clouds rolling in. It was definitely going to rain tonight; there was an ominous moisture in the air, and the breezes that whistled through the streets of Seattle kept getting warmer.

Josh, Daniel, and Mike were a few paces ahead of Matt and Chris. They were deep in some heated discussion, which didn't surprise Matt in the least. It seemed like any discussion involving Daniel resulted in an argument after just a few words. Only Beth was ever able to calm him, but even then barely.

Chris, too, was looking up at the sky, but Matt noticed that there was a different vibe coming from him. Matt was just about to ask if something was the matter when Chris spoke suddenly, his voice more unsteady than Matt was after a few beers.

"Matt, d- do you… ever th- think about, I don't know, marrying Em?"

"What?" Matt winced at his immediate reaction as he saw a blush rush into Chris's cheeks. "No, I mean… I, uh, no, not really. I don't think she's thought about it, so I haven't either."

"Oh," Chris said, the worn toe of his sneaker sending a pebble skipping away over the sidewalk.

"Dude, marriage isn't for everyone," Matt went on. "I just don't think Em and I are, like, husband and wife material. But you and Ash on the other hand…"

Chris brightened considerably. "You really think you could see her and I married?" he demanded, grinning giddily.

Matt shrugged. "Yeah, sure. Why, are you…" he trailed off as the realization dawned on him, and Chris's shy smile grew wider. "You're planning on proposing?"

Before Chris could reply, Matt called out to the others. "Guys, you gotta hear this!" he said seriously.

Curiously Josh, Mike, and even Daniel slowed down to keep in pace with the remaining two. "What is it?" Josh questioned them.

Scratching the back of his head, Chris looked sheepishly from the other guys to the ground. "I was thinking of… of buying a ring for Ash."

"A ring?" Mike started, confused, and Matt chuckled as he watched the gears turning in his head. "Ohhhh… a _ring_ ring. _The_ ring."

Josh pumped his fist in the air. "The ring to defeat all other rings!" he cheered. "Congrats, Cochise."

"So you really think I should do it?" Chris asked timidly, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"Sure, why the hell not?" Matt urged. "You'll never hear this come out of my mouth again, so listen carefully: if it feels right, and your heart, mind, and soul are definitely into her, then you should definitely go for it."

Mike and Josh nodded in silent agreement, while Daniel mumbled something Matt couldn't quite hear. But it didn't matter; Chris seemed pleased enough just with their consent.

"Well," he said slowly. "That was so philosophical, Matt. You could be the next Aristotle."

Mike snorted. "As if."

"When are you thinking about asking her?" Josh inquired, zipping his coat the rest of the way up as a chilly breeze snaked by them.

"Maybe the end of this week," Chris said, exhaling slowly. "I want to do it before we separate again. It was so hellish being apart from her for so long, and I… I want to make her mine; you know? I don't want to lose her." Shrugging his shoulders bashfully, Chris looked at his old friends with a shy grin. "I guess we should go ring shopping, then?"

 **Beth**

"I can't believe we're actually doing this," Jess squealed as she stepped into a changing room and whipped the curtain closed behind her.

Beth shook her head slowly, standing up in the middle of the fray. She clearly wasn't the only one not thrilled about this opportunity, as Sam was also on her butt in an armchair, almost looking like a miserable boyfriend forced to go shopping with his lady.

Jess was on her third dress, Em and Hannah on their second. Ashley had disappeared into a changing room with a frilly pale pink dress and hadn't left the privacy since.

Hannah swirled out of her room, showing off a light blue dress with a scoop neck, gorgeous crinkles at the hem, and a smattering of sequins. Holding her wavy dark hair up, Hannah beamed at her sister. "Couldn't you see me in this at, like, a wedding or something?"

"My, my, Han, you're such a model," Sam teased, sitting forward in the chair.

"Thanks," Hannah replied, curtsying awkwardly. She looked from Beth to Sam. "Now come on, you two. You have to try at least _one_ thing on!" She let her hair fall and smoothed out her dress. "Come on, Beth. Obviously you're my size. Just try this dress on, see how you feel."

Beth groaned, and after receiving a sympathetic glance from Sam, she stepped into the changing room with Hannah and slid on the dress on herself.

She stood in the mirror, scanning over her body. Somewhere deep inside, she still thought that it looked better on Hannah. The crinkles fell better at her sister's waist. The sequins glittered better with Hannah's eyes. The neckline wasn't as saggy on her twin.

Beth was about to turn around and tell Hannah this when there was a gasp, and behind her in the mirror Beth watched as Ashley stepped the rest of the way out from behind her curtain.

Everyone was standing frozen looking at her. Sam and Hannah, back in their regular clothes, were standing together with their jaws on the floor. Jess was halfway out of her shimmery black dress, gawking, while Emily, the one who had gasped, seemed stunned speechless for once.

Ashley hadn't tried on just any pale pink dress; it was a dress that looked almost white, and was clearly intended, or at least fit for, a bride. It was sleeveless, fitting snugly around her chest, and the edges were primarily made up of lace. It was absolutely stunning.

"Ash, you look…" Hannah was lost for words.

"You look amazing," Sam stated.

"Thank you," Ashley murmured, rubbing her arm and looking at the floor. "This one just caught my eye right away and…"

Jess stepped back behind her curtain to change the rest of the way into her clothes. "Well, that dress was definitely made just for you," she called over her shoulder.

"Agreed," Beth said.

A few minutes later, Ashley had reluctantly returned behind the curtain to change back while everyone else sat in the chairs or benches waiting. They were quiet for the most part, still marveling about Ashley in that dress. Beth was also worrying about how Daniel was coping with the guys. _He isn't fitting in really well…_

"Do you guys smell perfume?" Jess asked suddenly, wrinkling her nose.

"No…" Hannah replied as the others shook their heads.

"Ugh," Jess gagged. "It's vile. Rose and—"

Then the teenager who had illegally let them in raced to the back room, her eyes wild and full of much more personality than she'd exhibited before. "My mom's almost here! You better bust, and quick."

Ashley exploded out of the changing room, still buttoning her jeans while hanging the dress back on the rack. It looked like it had never even been touched.

They made it out just in time, panting heavily as they turned the corner and saw a sour-faced woman enter the shop.

Now Beth caught a whiff of the perfume, and they were reduced to coughing messes for a few minutes.

Once they could breathe again, Emily grumbled, "Was that even worth it? I lost a bracelet for that."

"You do realize that girl probably would've accepted just a pack of gum too, right?" Beth muttered.

"It was _so_ worth it," Ashley responded, a dreamy look in her eyes as she leaned against the brick building. "Just to dream for a little while."

 **Chris**

Chris felt numb as he followed the other guys into the jewelry shop. He'd never imagined himself actually going through with this. Yet his confidence level was at the max; how could Ashley say no?

But then he remembered.

 _"Brad, I'm gonna need a week off," Chris said, leaning into the open doorway of his boss._

 _Brad frowned up at him, glancing around his feet, which were propped up on his desk. His salt-and-peppered hair was as impeccable as ever. "Why's that, Shartley?"_

 _Chris swallowed back a sigh, gripping the edge of the doorframe. "I was invited to Seattle for a reunion with my old friends from high school," he explained patiently, ignoring the prick of irritation he felt at hearing his "nickname."_

 _"You know I can't just give you a week off, Shartley. You're one of the most valuable players on my team! You're the— you know what? You're the_ quarterback _. That's how important you are," Brad argued._

 _Chris offered him a stiff smile. "I'm sorry, sir, but you know I don't get sport— actually, never mind. Please, could I just have this one week? I'll even do any work you need me to while I'm there, a conference call or two."_

 _"I would love to help you out, but—"_

 _"You have to understand how important this is to me," Chris insisted, wincing slightly as he interrupted._

 _"And is work not as important?" Brad shot back._

 _The younger man's shoulders slumped. "Of course work is important to me. It's a big part of my life. But so is my girlfriend and now our old friend group. It would just be a w—"_

 _Brad crossed his arms. "And now it's my turn to interrupt_ you _, Shartley. I get the girlfriend thing. Long distance, I get it. You miss getting some. But 'old friends?' So they aren't even your friends anymore? I mean, how does an_ old _friend compare to a_ new _friend of yours?" he grilled._

 _Anger burned the edges of Chris's ears red. He knew this as he felt the heat in his cheeks. "Sir, I don't… I don't appreciate…"_

 _"Yes?"_

 _Taking a deep breath, Chris let it all spill out. "I don't appreciate you speaking about my girlfriend that way. I don't want to 'get some.' She's not an object I can 'get some' of. She's a beautiful woman who I miss with all of my heart, and a woman who I just want to hold in my arms again."_

 _Brad's face was wiped clean of emotion. "Oh, I can see you're not finished, Shartley. Please proceed."_

 _"And I think it's more than a little illegal that you've refused to give me more than a day off in ages. I've only dealt with it because I like what I do here enough. But now… it's not worth it. Because I'm sick of_ you _," Chris rambled on. "So I'm done. I quit."_

 _There wasn't a single wrinkle of dismay on Brad's face. "Alright. I liked you. Your last paycheck will come in the mail Thursday, just because I like you that much. It's a real shame that you're choosing a bunch of old friends over a valuable job, but have it your way, Shartley."_

 _Chris stormed out, yelling after him, "Hartley_ _! Not Shartley."_

Chris, of course, had been saving money for the possibility of a ring for a long time, and Josh paying for his flight here and back had helped save him tremendously. But once Ashley knew that he was jobless, and that he couldn't live off his remaining paychecks forever, would she even want to marry him?

Chris decided to push his worries aside. He had a close friend from his now-former job who he knew could hook him up somewhere else; he'd already checked on this. So he had a solid foundation to start anew somewhere else. He just didn't have all of the building blocks yet.

The five men perused the selection of rings carefully. Occasionally Mike, Matt, or Josh would point something out to Chris, but none of their finds really caught his eye. For weeks, Chris had been researching engagement rings online, but he knew he would only know which one was right for Ashley when he laid his eyes on it.

He was thinking this, and then seconds later he spotted the glint from across the room. Almost as if in a trance, Chris sidled over, gazing at the cluster of tiny diamonds set on a beautiful, yet simple, silver band engraved with a design. He asked an employee to take it out of the case.

"This is it," he told the others as they gradually gathered around him.

"You're sure?" Mike asked.

"I'm sure," Chris confirmed, moving it back and forth in his fingers. It felt so delicate in his hands, like it could shatter if he held it the wrong way.

"Good luck," the associate said a few minutes later as she handed him the ring, now encased in the classic velvet box.

Chris's heart was beating crazily in his chest as he and the guys left the store. He had taken another step forward; now he could only hope that Ashley was ready for this step too.


	7. I Like You

**Again, thanks for the support :)**

* * *

 **Sam**

That evening, the entire group met up in the hotel's café. From what Sam had learned, it was some kind of mid-week celebration for, in Josh's words, him being "five years sane" as well as something big for Ashley.

Sam couldn't really fathom what news Ashley possibly had to share for them, so she was a bit eager as she sat down across from her.

The café was a tight fit, but luckily wasn't nearly as dusty, if at all, as the rooms were.

Sam happened to choose a seat far away from Josh. She also happened to notice the brief expression of hurt cross over his face. She tried and failed to forget it.

One decent thing about the café was its efficiency. Before long Sam was staring down at her food: a veggie burger with cheese. She noticed Hannah staring at it as well, and with a bit of irritation Sam asked her friend, "What?"

"You know that's real cheese, right?" Hannah asked, inserting a fry into her mouth.

"Yes," Sam replied patiently. "I ditched the vegan thing a few years ago, Han, don't you remember? I couldn't keep it up. I'm just a vegetarian now," she told her, picking up the burger and taking a big bite. It wasn't the worst burger she'd ever tasted (like soggy sawdust), but not the best either (like it was from the juicy butt of a black bean cow.)

"So are you ever gonna tell us your news or not, Ash?" Beth piped up, cramming a forkful of lettuce in her mouth.

Ashley took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay, okay. So… I actually kind of wrote a book."

"A _book_?" Jess exclaimed. "Holy crap! Nice!"

"Thanks," Ashley replied. "I don't really know how I managed to do it, but… I did."

"What's it about?" Sam asked, sipping her iced tea.

Chris threw his arm around Ashley's shoulders, squeezing her close to him. "It's a horror fiction novel. I read it and it's _amazing_."

"Horror?" Emily said incredulously. "Are you for real? Ashley, writing horror?"

Ashley hunched her shoulders shyly. "I dunno. I guess I found it easier to write horror after…" she trailed off, and right away Sam realized what she was referring to. _That night on that damn mountain._

As everyone else recognized what she meant, silence fell over the table. It was only broken by Jess, who stood up abruptly and announced, "I left something in the room!" before running across the lobby into the stairwell.

Hannah watched her go. "What's gotten into her?"

Mike gave her a sharp look. "Didn't you hear her? She forgot something in the room, that's all," he grumbled, also watching as the door to the stairwell slammed shut. Sam noticed his dark eyes dart anxiously from the door to his plate, which was sprinkled with the crumbs of his dinner.

Hannah immediately shut up, staring guiltily at a point past his shoulder, and choosing to absently stir the ice in her glass with the straw.

"Still getting kinda forgetful, though, isn't she?" Beth persisted.

Sam looked at her and shook her head. _All hell breaks loose if we stress Mike out._ Returning her attention to the equally bewildered Chris and Ashley, she said, "Sooo… when are you getting published? Or are you already?"

Ashley clasped her hands together, looking up at Chris and then back at Sam. "Well… no, I'm not published yet. I'm actually expecting the 'yes' or 'no' call tonight— ya know, since sending a letter is apparently so obsolete."

"Woah," Matt remarked. "You must be pretty nervous then, huh?" As he clumsily lifted the glass of beer to his lips, it clanged against his plate and some of the amber liquid sloshed out onto the tablecloth.

Emily sighed.

"Definitely," Ashley nodded. "So it'll be really embarrassing if I don't… well, don't get it."

Chris patted her arm. "You will, hon. I know it."

Ashley rolled her eyes, resting her head on his shoulder. "Chris," she said with a giggle. "I love you, alright, but please don't go getting my hopes up."

Sam looked away from the lovey pair, and by pure chance, her eyes settled on Josh. He was slouched in his chair, literally twiddling his thumbs. She was about to glance somewhere else, but that was when he noticed her staring.

Shame fueled her every nerve, and she couldn't prevent the light blush that dusted her cheeks pink. She forced her face downward so that she could only see the napkin in her lap.

But instinct made her peer up again— she couldn't help it. Her eyes were attracted to him like paper clips to a magnet.

Right then, Ashley's cell began ringing, and everyone around the table in the now mostly empty café sat quietly, listening.

"… yes, this is she," Ashley said, her free hand drumming the table until Chris rested his fingers on top of it. "Yes… yes… oh. Y- yeah, I understand… mhm. No, thank you for your consideration… I— I really appreciate it. Thank you. Goodbye."

Sam's heart fell, and she winced as Ashley turned and buried her head into her boyfriend's fuzzy dark green sweater.

Chris whispered something in her ear, and her head shook sullenly. Slowly he looked up, scanning over the group and giving a thumbs-down.

"Hey, it'll be okay, Ash," he murmured into her ear. "There are other publishers. This was just one of _many_ who will be reading your novel. And you know what?"

"What?" Ashley sighed, adjusting herself so her cheek was pressed against his chest, and Sam could see her puffy red eyes.

"One of those publishers is bound to love it enough to say _yes_ ," Chris comforted her. Looking back up at the sympathetic faces around them, he heaved a deep breath and said softly, "Ash and I are gonna hit the hay. It's been a long night."

"Same here," Emily grumbled, grabbing Matt's arm and yanking him upward. "If he ingests even one drop of alcohol he acts like a wild baboon, so it's best for us to head up now."

Beth and the ever-silent Daniel went soon after, and then Hannah. Only Mike, Josh, and Sam were left sitting around the rectangular table.

"Mike?" Sam muttered cautiously, prodding his shoulder.

Josh inched forward in his chair, his eyes darting from Sam to Mike, who appeared to be perfectly entertained watching the ice melt in his glass. "Mike? Everything good in the hood?"

Sam snorted, sending a glare in Josh's direction.

"Nah, I'm fine," Mike said, perking up suddenly and pushing back his chair so he could stand. "I'm, uh, I'm gonna go up with Jess. Catch you all later?"

"You bet," Josh answered.

"Alright, see you tomorrow," Sam grinned solemnly.

 **Josh**

The moment Mike disappeared behind the door to the stairwell, Josh's heart began to thrum harder in his chest. It was just him and Sam. When was the last time it had been only the two of them? _Just about never,_ Josh thought as he fell back in his chair.

The café was closing up, and once the waiter cleared their things and the check was paid for, he and Sam were left sitting quietly in the darkened corner of the lobby.

"So…" Josh mumbled, staring at a fallen French fry half-crushed by the shoe of a customer.

Sam rose to her feet, and sweat sprung onto the palms of his hands. "I'm… gonna head on up. Night—"

"No, wait," Josh interrupted, also getting up and going to stand in her path. "Just, please, wait a sec."

Her arms were crossed defiantly, and yet she refused to meet his eyes. The mixed messages she was sending out boggled his brain, and it took him a few moments to gather his thoughts. "What is it, Josh?" she asked tiredly.

"C- can we talk?" he begged. "Just for a few—"

"Alright—"

"A few minutes, I swear I—"

"I _said_ alright," she snapped, sliding past him. As her arm brushed his, his kneecaps seemed to disappear and he nearly caved in on himself. Somehow, Josh was able to whirl around and follow her out into the main lobby, which was peaceful except for the far-off voices of a few late-night check-ins.

Sam settled into a tan armchair, leaning back so she could rest her head on top and stare at the ceiling. Josh sat across a small round coffee table from her in a white chair.

"Sam, I feel like… I feel like you're still upset with me," Josh began, leaning forward. He cringed into his hands, which were propping up his chin. He felt like he was building up a tower with the wrong kind of building blocks.

"Okay, well, I am," Sam stated bluntly, lowering her face so she could stare directly at him for a little while. "I can't find it as easy to forgive you as the others have."

The tower was going to collapse. "I…" Josh's brain blanked. It was all going to collapse. Any second now. There was no glue holding the structure together. That would go first. Then the glass windows would shatter, raining shards down on the streets below. After that, the foundation would crumble into dust. It would be like there was never a tower there in the first place.

That tower was her respect. Her admiration. He'd destroyed it all by playing that prank: stealing her clothes in a freezing cold lodge, filming her in the bathtub, knocking her out with gas, tying her up when she was wearing only a bath towel. He'd crushed anything that they'd shared together before, any feelings at all, into smithereens that night. She hadn't even played along with the prank on Hannah the year before. None of that had been Sam's fault.

So why the fuck had he targeted her? And why the fuck did he torture Chris on that night? Chris, his best friend, who was passed out drunk right alongside him while the others made a fool out of Hannah.

Josh's only excuse was his mental illness, but he knew that wasn't valid enough. It was he himself who had chosen to stop taking his meds. Sam had run out into that snowy forest and brought his sisters back to safety, but still he remained hung up on the fact that they nearly were killed. Sam was the one Josh confided in after that incident, and he betrayed that trust.

Josh had noticed his feelings for Sam when he was sixteen or so and she was fifteen. She was his sister's best friend, so he saw her plenty often when Hannah would invite her over to their house. He could easily diagnose the symptoms: the way his stomach flipped over when he laid his eyes on her. The way his heart fluttered in his chest when she said "hey." The way he found himself stuttering when she looked at him, waiting for a response.

And he would always say it, every time, without a doubt: "H- hey."

In all of his time knowing her closely, Sam had never dated any other guys. Sure, she was asked out several times throughout their high school career, but she never seemed interested in dating anyone. He loved her independency, the way she held herself high when she walked, but also the way she could be gentle, kind, sweet, always providing a shoulder for Hannah to cry on.

But after that night six years ago, Josh was almost positively sure that she had moved past anything they had together. She and Hannah talked frequently throughout college and the past few years, and it came as no surprise to him that when he asked his sister about her, he was told about various boyfriends. Josh became sure that her soft blonde hair would never be his to stroke, and he knew that those hazel eyes would never be the first and last eyes he'd gaze into every day.

He was soon launched back to reality. She was still looking at him. He couldn't focus if he looked at her face, so he chose to stare at the coffee table between them instead. "I'm so sorry, Sam. It's been six years…"

"Six years, and some of the wounds are still fresh," Sam said, leaning forward as well. Josh tensed as he felt her warm breath against his face. "Look, of course the… the wendigos weren't your fault. I know that. And those things were the worst part of that night for sure. But still, what you did was absolutely uncalled for. I can't just… I can't just forgive you in the blink of an eye."

Josh opened his mouth, but she shook her head.

"Hold on, lemme finish. I— I understand that six years is a lot of time to definitely heal, and maybe forgive. But I won't ever forget what you put us through. And I know that night wasn't easy for you either… I mean, for Christ's sake, you were dragged into the lair of those _things_ … but, even if the others have forgiven you, I still need time to learn how to forgive you. Because you… you really severed the trust I had in you."

Silence stretched between them as Josh processed her words. Then he spoke, his voice barely audible. "Take as much time as you need, Sam. You're worth waiting for."

"What do you…?"

He braved a glance in her direction. She was frowning at him, her forehead creased and eyebrows slanted downward. It could take him mere seconds to get lost in her eyes, so he avoided them. "I like you, Sam," he said simply. Exhaling loudly, he collapsed backward in his chair, covering his face with his hands. "There. I said it. I think you're—"

Just then, an enormous crash of thunder could be heard from outside as bucketful after bucketful of rain were dumped onto the cars and streets outside.

"Shit!" Sam whispered.

"What?" Josh asked, looking at the stormy world beyond the windows, then Sam. Lightning flashed, highlighting the fear in her eyes.

"I hate storms," Sam muttered.

"It never storms in Chicago?" Josh teased.

Sam shook her head vehemently. "Of course it storms in Chicago, dumbass. Just not as much as it does in Seattle." As thunder boomed overhead, she groaned and curled into her chair.

"Are you… _scared_ of thunderstorms?" Josh pressed.

Her shoulders shrugged as she hugged her knees to her chest. "Josh, do you remember… that night? When we were rescued from the mountain?"

He shook his head forlornly. "No, I'm sorry. I… I don't remember much of being rescued. That might be a good thing, though."

"Well… it was storming really bad that night. I remember sitting in the police station down in that remote town at the base of the mountain… the lights were flickering, and I felt sick and exhausted after being questioned. It kept storming and storming and storming, and there was never before a moment in my life where I just wanted it all to _stop_. I craved peace and silence. I didn't want to hear… to hear Ashley's sobbing in the corner, or Mike cursing nonstop, in pain from his fingers… and now every time it storms…"

"… you associate it with that night," Josh finished for her.

"Yes," Sam mumbled, taking her face out of her arms and gazing at him. Josh found the courage to do the same. He nearly melted into a lovesick puddle as her conflicted, yet still gorgeous, eyes burned holes into his.

That was when he forgot every logical thought that existed in his mind. "Come here," he said to her.

Sam sat up slightly. "What?"

"Sit with me," Josh implored her, sliding over in his chair, carving out a space for her in the plush leather.

"O… okay," she gave in, standing and going over to sit by him.

At first she was stiff; Josh could see every muscle in her body tensed and prepared for her to spring upward and away. But still she stayed; then she fell back against him, their breaths matched and his warmth gradually dwindling her trembling to nothing.

He couldn't believe what was happening. Sam was nestled under his arm, her hair nearly unraveling out of its messy bun. She was still tense, but the fact that she was actually willing to lean into him and invade his personal space was enough to tell him.

She wasn't completely over him at all.


	8. No Way

**Thanks again for the support :) I'm sorry about the lack of updates, school is really causing me a lot of stress, and I also lost one of my dogs a few days ago, so it's been tough. But writing this story makes me feel better, so I hope you like it!**

 **(Also sorry, but no Sam or Josh this chapter. They are definitely my favorite couple, and I'll try to include them at least every other chapter since they are part of the main focus of this story.)**

* * *

 **Hannah**

On Thursday morning, Hannah was up bright and early. She had always been the morning person in her family, often the one preparing breakfast for her siblings when their parents weren't around— which was most of the time.

She slipped out of her tiny room, dressed in a simple dark blue blouse and her favorite jeans. As she made her way down the hallway, the old hotel building seemed to creak and groan at her every step.

She could've sworn that the floor was tilted a little, having been unleveled at some point due to crumbling foundation. She didn't hate her brother for putting them in this hotel, but she wasn't exactly thrilled to be there either.

And, at times, when the dust got to be too much, she considered hopping in her car and driving to the nearest Motel 6 for the remainder of the week. Somehow, however, she always pulled through and forced herself to stay.

Hannah was almost at the end of the interminable hallway when she heard raised voices coming from her sister's room. She was about to put her ear against the door, since twin telepathy was not something she and Beth were blessed with, when her sister exploded out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

"Hey, there are still people sleeping, ya know," Hannah whispered with a cautious grin as Beth glanced over at her.

"Don't start," Beth warned, storming past her toward the old elevator. "God, I need coffee."

"Woah, woah, where do you think you're going?" Hannah followed her, watching in horror as Beth slammed her fist on the down button for the elevator. "Are you insane? Didn't you hear Mike saying that he read online about the elevator in this place? People have _died_ in it, or something—"

Beth scoffed, crossing her arms and tapping her foot impatiently as the various floor numbers lit up over the doors. "We're not twelve anymore, Han," she retorted. "I think I can handle a haunted elevator. It's not like it's a wen—" Just then, her breath seemed to catch in her throat, and she trailed off.

Hannah sighed, following her sister as the elevator doors slid open with a reluctant groan. "Okay, well, you're not gonna go alone, at least."

The doors rolled to a close behind them, and after Beth punched the first floor button, they began to rumble downward. "So… I hope you didn't hear that back there," she muttered awkwardly, clicking her tongue.

"You and Daniel? Of course I heard it. I think people down the block heard it."

Beth pursed her lips, sliding further down against the elevator wall. "Well… great."

"What happened?"

The elevator came to a jarring halt, and to Hannah's great relief the doors moved to the sides, giving them a burst of air that was fresh compared to the stuffy elevator.

"He's just being a jackass," Beth replied, walking briskly across the lobby and out into the street. It was barely drizzling, but this didn't seem to faze her as she marched into the mist.

Meanwhile, Hannah, in full makeup, was a bit wearier. _You've gotta be kidding me._ Forcing herself to move forward, she caught up to her sister halfway up the block. "You're going to have to be more specific than that," she urged.

"Long story short, I kind of regret bringing him here. He's been talking shit about the others. Calling Mike a prick, and Ash a whiny—"

"Wait, _what_? That's awful!" Hannah interrupted. Her blood boiled at the mention of Mike's name. _Hell no. No one calls anybody a prick, especially not my friends. Especially not Mike._ But Hannah knew she couldn't talk about Mike to her sister. Beth would murder her twice over. It was the entire reason she'd moved to Green Bay.

So she decided to play the jealousy card. "Well, maybe he'll come around. You never know. Besides, at least you have a boyfriend."

Beth bit her lip, making a sharp turn around another corner. "Trust me, Han, having a boyfriend isn't all it's cracked up to be."

"Really? Because it seems like it's pretty fun," Hannah argued.

They came upon a Starbucks, and Beth beamed. "Yay! Right where they said it was." They entered and took their place at the end of a long line.

"Starbucks," Hannah stated flatly.

"Yes, Starbucks," her twin answered defensively. "I dunno about you, but the coffee the hotel café serves tastes like they brewed just one bean and then mixed it with tap water. I almost gagged when I had it— no amount of cream or sugar could save it."

Hannah rolled her eyes, standing on her tiptoes to scan over the menu overhead. After mentally deciding on her order— strawberry frappuccino, extra whipped cream— she said, "Anyways, I'm just saying, having someone to casually kiss and cuddle with must be nice."

"Not really. Since Daniel's taken up his lovely habit of being a horrible human being, I've refused to even go near him. I'm almost falling off the edge of the bed just to not touch a hair on his body."

"Seriously?"

"No joke. Unless he changes and apologizes, then I'm probably gonna break it off soon," Beth admitted.

Hannah stared at her in shock. "Hmm. I wonder what it's like to be the dumper and not the dumpee."

Beth laughed glumly. "Dumping people is still not fun." She tilted her head curiously at her sister. "Wait, really? You were always the one dumped by your boyfriends in college?"

"Yeah," Hannah replied simply. She didn't really feel like getting into it. Besides, none of them had felt _right_. Those guys were never on her mind except when they were right in front of her. They hadn't been special enough.

Finally, they had reached the front of the line, and Hannah stared at the pastries behind the glass. "I think I'm gonna get a cake pop with my coffee," Beth added to the cashier. She glanced at Hannah and half-grinned. "It'll be a diabetes-inducing snack, but hell, I think I deserve it."

Hannah snorted and stepped up after her receipt was printed. Yet still her mind was stuck on their conversation. Why was she always the dump _ee_?

 **Jess**

Jess had never been more exhausted in her life. All she felt like doing was lying on the bed in their room, which made her feel worse due to the overpowering musty smell.

Mike claimed he couldn't smell anything weird in the room, but surely he had to be lying. The smell was more obvious than blood on snow!

She knew there had to be something wrong with her if doing even the simplest tasks made her dizzy. The only problem was that her doctor was all the way across the country, back in Pennsylvania. So maybe if she just waited it out, and rested for a day, the nagging pain and nausea would go away.

She roused at around nine thirty Thursday morning, and groaned as she rolled onto her side to face Mike, who was— surprisingly— already awake and gazing at her.

"I'm not in the mood for a staring contest," she mumbled, closing her eyes and shifting so that she sunk deeper into the mattress.

"What, I'm not allowed to take in the sight of my gorgeous girlfriend on a lovely rainy morning?" Mike argued playfully, finding her hand under the covers and squeezing it.

In spite of herself, a smile crept onto her face. "Wow, you're such a Casanova," she replied.

"Eh, I dunno. That was pretty weak," Mike said, propping his head up with his free arm. "I still remember some of my pickup lines from high school that always seduced the ladies."

She blinked at his attractive face, for a few seconds ignoring her achy body to giggle. "Well, somehow you managed to seduce me."

"And _you_ , my angel, were a keeper," Mike shot back before leaning in.

Their lips met and they stayed connected for a moment, but reluctantly Jess had to pull away as sickness overwhelmed her. "I'm sorry," she whispered, wincing. "Not right now, okay?"

He fixed worried brown eyes on her again. "Babe, maybe you should go to a doctor—"

"But—"

"You've been like this almost since we got here. I'm really concerned about you, you know," Mike interrupted, frowning. "I'm not just gonna sit around and act like you're fine."

She groaned again, moving onto her back and rolling her eyes toward the off-white stucco ceiling. "Okay, how about this… let me rest all day today, and I promise I'll go to a doctor tomorrow if I'm not any better."

For a little while it looked as if Mike would refuse, but then he gave in with a sigh. "Fine. Pinkie promise?"

Her hand brushed his, and they linked their pinkies together. "Pinkie promise," she agreed.

A half-hour later, Mike was dressed and gone, probably to do something with the guys. She had instructed him to tell the others what she hoped would be a decent enough excuse for her absence.

An hour after he left, she convinced herself to sit up in the bed and turn on the tiny TV. She went from feeling small pangs of hunger to being immersed in a nasty feeling of nausea.

Jess knew that her excuse that she had "left something in the room" wasn't going to fly anymore with the group. She'd used the line at least three or four times now, because her mind went blank when she was desperate.

Every time she said that, she always ran back to their room, taking three steps at a time because the creepy old elevator wouldn't be quick enough. Then she'd cram the key card into the slot and burst into the room so she could spew her guts out into the toilet.

Just thinking about it made her feel even sicker. At first she had clung to the faint hope that it was only a stomach bug, but at this point there was no way it was just a 24-hour virus.

She searched through her mind, thinking of possible reasons why she felt like shit.

As she was thinking this, with the sound of HGTV on a low volume in the background, the unbearable feeling washed over her again.

Untangling her legs from the sheets, she stumbled into the bathroom and leaned into the toilet bowl, coughing up clear bile. There was absolutely nothing in her stomach, because anything and everything she ate was rejected.

And that was when, at last, a realization dawned on her. Now a fearful kind of nausea filled her, but it still made her wretch.

No. No, no, no. There was no way in hell.

Jess raised her head from the toilet and flushed it absently, rising to her feet and reaching for her toothbrush.

As she stood there brushing her teeth, she stared at herself in the mirror. She looked awful. Her long hair was in a falling-apart braid that trailed past her right shoulder. Her eyes were sunken in; she almost looked gaunt, even, from throwing up nearly everything she'd eaten the past week.

It couldn't be true. There was no way in hell. She sighed, filling one of hotel's plastic cups with water and rinsing out her mouth.

There was only one way to know for sure.


	9. Us

**Hello! So I was thinking about shifting the focus of this story a little. Instead of trying to move the POV around all ten characters, I think I'm just going to focus on the pairings Sam/Josh and Jess/Mike, with a bit of Chris/Ashley thrown in. Therefore, these six will be the main POVs, though every now and then I may include POVs of the others, depending on how deeply involved that character is in some drama.**

* * *

 **Matt**

"Today, my friends, we are going to see the highlight of the Emerald City…" Josh began, spreading his arms wide as he stood on the sidewalk in front of the others.

Matt snorted as he watched passerby staring at Josh as they walked around him. He sneaked a glance at his girlfriend beside him. Emily was groaning, her face hidden behind a leather gloved hand.

They were all at the base of Seattle's well-known tower— the Space Needle. Matt had been wondering when this day would arrive.

"... the Space Needle!" Josh finished before turning on his heel and leading the group inside.

Everyone was there except for Jess, who Mike said was feeling a little under the weather. Josh made absolute sure that she would be fine missing the experience— Mike insisted she was— and they went on their merry way.

Yet still Mike was now acting as sullen as Daniel, barely looking up from his battered shoes at the exhibits around them.

"So, Mr. Washington a.k.a. the Best Tour Guide Ever, is it true that our stay in Seattle could never be complete without seeing the sights in the Needle?" Chris asked Josh, with one arm around Ashley and the other waving obnoxiously at an exhibit.

"You are indeed correct, good sir," Josh praised, an exaggerated smile on his face as he wagged his finger at his friend. "But you mustn't forget the sights you can see from the _top_ of the Needle." Dropping the overly-polite tone, he spun back around and said teasingly, "Because, ya know, that's kinda the whole point."

"If they keep up this idiotic banter, I'm just gonna go to the next tallest building in Seattle," Emily muttered, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes.

"Hey, just give them a break—" Matt tried to say gently, but she interjected.

"Ohhhh no, don't you start with me. I'm just as pissed with you," she growled, yanking off her gloves as they finally reached a less drafty part of the big room.

His heart sunk, but at the same time a prickle of irritation poked him, and the best answer he could conjure up was, "Still?"

She glared up at him, her dark eyes irate. "Yes, _still_. Every night you sneak off for 'a few' beers, and leave me alone in the cold bed for half the night."

After paying, they boarded an elevator and shortly after started to move skyward. "Babe, I'm just going to the bar in a hotel down the street. Our hotel's coffee sucks, but this one's got great beer."

"Well, I wouldn't know, would I?" Emily said sourly. "You never think to invite me with you. Am I really that un-fun to you?"

Matt tried not to let his annoyed sigh escape his lungs. "I'm sorry. You can come with me next time." _She's just going to tell me to stop after two beers. That's not fun at all._

The view outside the elevator's clear glass walls kept getting better and better as they got higher. Matt couldn't focus on it well, however, his thoughts returning to the tension between him and Em. Jealousy burned him as his eyes found Chris and Ashley, who were inseparable as they stood facing the countless buildings falling below them. She was nestled under his arm, so close that it appeared they were sewn together at the hips.

The only other couple there was Beth and Daniel, who were on opposite ends of the packed elevator. At first Matt had assumed they'd gotten separated by mistake, but now that he really looked at them, he could see the side-glares they were throwing each other.

As unhappy as he and Em could be sometimes, he was at least grateful they didn't despise each other enough to not even stand touching each other.

Sliding a little closer to his girlfriend, he wrapped his arm around her back and although he heard her grumble, she didn't move away.

 **Josh**

He had been here before, but it was still so breathtaking. The city stretched under them like an endless painting as Josh stepped the rest of the way onto the observation deck.

A light breeze swirled through, bringing with it the scent of incoming rain. It smelled like Seattle, and Josh loved it.

He leaned against the edge, gazing down bravely from the immense height. Cars looked like tiny ants drifting along in a uniform line from street to street. Every now and then, one ant would break the line to make a turn or park.

The people were almost indiscernible from this high up; if anything, they could be considered moving specks.

Josh used to have an insane fear of heights, but that changed one day in late June seven years ago. He closed his eyes, letting the refreshing wind whip his face as he dived into the memory.

It was summer 2014, between the first February 2nd and the second February 2nd. Josh was still struggling to forgive everyone after the prank that nearly sent his sisters— and Sam, who loyally chased after them— to their deaths. He was livid when he was alone, but around others he acted completely normal, as if what they had done was alright.

His mental illness, after eight years of being under control, was beginning to rear its ugly head again. He grappled with the fine line between fakeness and reality, and as the line grew blurred it only got worse.

That was when Sam stepped in. He was drawn to her level-headedness, so he confided in her. His massive crush on her also helped him improve, because seeing her face made everything in the world okay, even if for just a few seconds.

Sam was always a fan of nature, since she would constantly drag Hannah onto trails along creeks or paths carved through thick pine forests. So it didn't come as much of a surprise to Josh when he stopped at her house one day to find Sam, a nearly nineteen-year-old woman, up in a tree.

Josh stopped under her branch, searching for her amazing smile through the leaves. Eventually he caught sight of her swinging legs, and soon after she called down, "What are you waiting for? Get on up here!"

"What… are you crazy? N- no way!" Josh replied, his voice skipping like an old CD. Despite the feeling of his heart hammering against his ribcage, he still grinned just from being in her presence. God, how she made him feel like he was walking on clouds.

"Come on, Josh," she said, a bit more serious than playful this time. "I know you're scared of heights… but you can overcome this."

He stiffened, embarrassment flooding him so that he nearly toppled over. Leaning against the tree— and grateful she probably couldn't see his blushing from up there— he yelled, "How did you— oh, whatever. Fine. I- I'll be right up."

Turning, he reached up and grabbed a knobby part of the trunk, hoisting himself upward. After scrabbling a few more moments, he found himself several feet off the ground in the center of the tree where a few thick branches met. It was a hot day, so already he was drenched in sweat. Yanking at his gray t-shirt to unstick it from his chest, he groaned as he glanced skyward. She was still a little higher.

"You got this, J!" Sam said encouragingly. "Lemme know if you need help."

He was too full of pride. _I don't need help_. The pride also made the flirty side of him act up, and before he could think, he shouted back up to her, "Thanks, but I'm good, _Samantha_!"

As he began to crawl up the branch that led to her, all while ignoring the scrapes the rough bark was inflicting on his hands, she grumbled, "Hey. You know that I hate—"

"Then don't call me J," he replied before she could finish. He heaved himself up onto the branch she was sitting on. Now she was a foot or two away.

She clicked her tongue. "Touché."

Josh crawled the rest of the way to her, finally settling himself beside his friend. "You know I was joking, right? Call me whatever you want," he said honestly, briefly looking into her eyes before staring at his weightless feet with a gulp.

"Yeah, yeah. But J doesn't really suit you anyway," Sam said, offering him a small grin. "I do hate my full name, though. Doubt that's ever gonna change."

In order to ignore the nervous adrenaline flowing through him at being this high off the ground, and being this close to the girl he loved, Josh chose to focus on flexing his now blistered fingers. "Why do you hate it?" he asked.

She shrugged. "It's long, I guess. Unwieldy. I don't think it suits me as well as just 'Sam' does." Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her scan over the full branches overhead. Sunlight sliced through the leafy green, highlighting her fair hair, which was pinned up in its usual style.

He didn't say anything, suddenly too shy. His nerves were also frayed, so he took a deep breath and hoped she would say something else.

"Are you okay?" she murmured. "We can go down if you want…"

"No, I'm… actually, I think I'm alright," he responded. He began to mimic her movements, making his limply dangling legs swing cheerfully like hers. "Yeah… I'm good."

Sam chuckled. "Well, I'm glad you're good."

That was when Josh mindlessly blurted out another thought that had been lingering in the background, bothering him, ever since he had sat down next to her. "I dropped out."

He noticed her tense up, and his stomach flipped, making him feel somewhat dizzy. "You mean college?" she asked.

"Yeah, college."

"Why'd you do that?"

He was surprised to find that her question wasn't all that difficult to answer at all. "I don't have the motivation anymore. Knowing that my sisters, and you, came that close to death in those woods a few months back… it made me realize that life is short, and death could be around the corner when you don't even realize it. I mean, was college really what I wanted to be doing with my life right now? What if I'm wasting time from my life being stuck studying and stressing over finals and then I die and I wish I could've done something more great?"

Silence sat between them, driving a wedge between their hands. Josh had noticed her fingers shifting closer to his on the branch, but now both her hands were resting in her lap fearlessly. Then she spoke quietly. "I'll stand by you, Josh. It's your life, so it's your decision."

He tilted his head, gazing at her. "You're sure? Because I think I'm really losing it…. Y'know, 'it' being my mind."

She bit her lip. "You very well may be. But like I said, I'll stand by you, just as long as you promise me one thing."

"What's that?"

Now Sam turned her head as well, and they peered at each other. "Stay on your meds," she whispered. "Please."

He lifted one hand from the branch, wobbling slightly but still retaining his balance. He spread his fingers away from his palms. "I promise," he said.

She snorted, lifting one of her hands as well and colliding it with his, and then clasping her fingers with his.

After one last squeeze, they broke apart, but Josh was still on cloud nine. And she was still looking at him as he looked at her. He inched closer; he was near enough to see the gorgeous green flecks in her eyes.

Their noses were nearly touching. Josh wondered if this was really it. Were they really going to—

"Wow, my best friend and my brother are _literally_ in a tree!"

Hannah's voice rang upwards from the ground, and Josh swallowed a sigh of crushing disappointment as Sam turned her face away from him, a blush dusting her cheeks pink.

"K-I-S-S—"

"Quit it, Han. We're not in middle school anymore," Sam warned, plastering on a smile as she maneuvered past him and dropped to the trunk below, sliding the rest of the way down and leaving him alone in the tree.

Josh began to climb down after her, heated irritation at his sister spreading through his veins and making him move faster toward the ground. The clouds he'd been walking on were gone, waved away by the blissful ignorance of Hannah.

What would've happened if she hadn't interrupted?

That day was, at least, the beginning of the end of his fear of heights.

As Josh was plunged back into present day, he found himself still leaning against the edge as far as the railing allowed him to go. Chewing the inside of his cheek, Josh moved back a little.

He found Chris next to him, for once separated from Ashley. "Hey, man," he greeted his friend.

"Hello," Chris answered, running one hand through his thick hair. "What were you daydreaming about?"

A breeze from the incoming rain battered their faces red, and Josh shuddered as he was suddenly reminded it was March in Seattle, not that sunny June day seven years ago. "I'm pretty sure you know what I was daydreaming about," he said with a bit more scorn in his tone than he'd intended.

"True, true, I do know," Chris admitted. "I don't get it, though."

"Don't get what?"

"How two people can clearly have an attraction to each other but fight it with all their might," Chris said, his usually goofy grin wiped clean off his face. "Like, shit, man, just go for it."

Josh shook his head forlornly. "Don't make me laugh. You know after what I did—"

"You talked to her, didn't you?" Chris demanded.

Josh nodded.

"So talk to her again. Only she will know if she's ready to go for it, and only you will know if you really are." With that, Chris wandered away, likely to find his girlfriend again. Or really, his soon-to-be-fiancé.

There was only one person Josh imagined spending the rest of his life with. Chris was right— he couldn't suppress it anymore.

But that was when Sam materialized next to him, her face just as wind-burned as his. She didn't even have to say anything for him to notice her presence. Her arm was not-so-subtly brushing his, and she kept returning his side glances.

"Look," he piped up suddenly. "That talk we had the other night… I really do mean it."

"Mean what?" she muttered, her voice nearly drowned out by the howling wind.

"I like you, Sam. A lot. A- and I… I was wondering if…" To his horror, the words dried up on his tongue. He was left speechless, unsure how to go on.

Luckily she swooped in. "You were wondering if we should give it a try."

"Yeah," he said. He saw a shy grin form on her face, so he let a smile appear on his, too. "'It' as in—"

"— us."

Josh blinked, his eyes watering against the cold. Taking another step back, he leaned against the wall away from the edge, and she followed suit. Gazing into her eyes, he searched for the green flecks. "So is it a yes, then?"

She opened her mouth, hesitated, pulled her scarf tighter around her neck, and then said, "Sure. Why the hell not."

He couldn't find the green yet. But he hoped he would again soon.


	10. The Movies

**Thank you for the support! This is a crappy chapter, so I'm sorry. The next one will be much better, but I just wanted to get this updated before the weekend!**

* * *

 **Ashley**

"Chris," Ashley whispered. She was leaning into him, her eyes closed against the wind, which had been mercilessly drying out her contacts.

"Ashley," Chris replied. He wasn't leaning into her, but rather standing solid like a handsome statue. She felt protected, and hid half of her face in his jacket as her lips traced a smile.

She opened her mouth to speak, but right then another gust hit them square in the face. Chris's statue-like posture crumbled, and he stumbled back with a grunt. Taking her under his arm, he steered her back indoors.

Mike was already inside, sitting on a bench outside the restaurant. He was crouched forward, poised and prepared to hop up any second. Ashley felt a pang of sympathy for him; he was probably concerned about his girlfriend. Jess had been acting strange all week.

"What were you gonna say?" Chris questioned her as they sat down on a black cushiony bench nearby Mike.

"I was just… I was just going to say that I…" Ashley stopped herself. She had to make sure that her hands were enclosed with his, and that their eyes were connected before she could go on. He felt his fingers squeeze hers, leaking his warmth into her after the frigid deck outside.

"You…" he prompted.

"I don't want to leave you again," Ashley said. She had to break their eye contact for a moment so she could lean back her head. Tears were gathering in her eyes, but she couldn't let them fall right now.

He sighed, and his breath touched her cheek tantalizingly. "I don't want to leave you again, either," he muttered. "That's why—"

She glanced back down, searching his face. He was now looking at the ground, and his hands were buried into his pockets. Dread engulfed her. _What was he gonna say? 'That's why I'm breaking up with you'? Oh God…_

"No. Wait. I have to tell you something else first, before I do that," Chris said.

"O- okay."

"Ash, look. I understand completely if this upsets you, but I- I think we both knew this was coming," he told her. She looked at the shiny floor, and noticed his foot tapping rapidly. _Nerves._

"I probably maybe possibly kind of definitely don't have a job," he finished, cringing away from her like she had an enormous wart on her nose.

She had to process his words for a few moments, removing all of the unnecessary words. Wow. So… he was jobless. Nowhere to go. Standing in the infamous unemployment line. "Oh," she said, swallowing her gum accidentally. "Well… that's fine."

" _Fine_?" Chris stared at her desperately, placing his hand on her shoulder. "Ashley, what does 'fine' mean?"

Ashley giggled, brushing a few red strands behind her ear and grinning. "It means that I'm perfectly, one hundred percent a-okay with you not having a job."

"Really?"

"Really really," she confirmed. "I mean, what happened? Did Brad the Asshat fire you?"

Chris sucked in his lower lip, smiling awkwardly. "Umm, I actually kind of fired myself."

She tried not to snort in laughter. "You mean you _quit_?" she demanded, disbelief weaved into every word.

"I did," he insisted. "I couldn't take it anymore. And, I mean, he still refused to give me a week off even though I legally could take one. So I just walked out, but not until after I told him to stop effing calling me 'Shartley.'"

She raised her eyebrows at him, unimpressed. "You did _not_ swear at him."

Chris opened his mouth, then closed it, smirking bashfully. "Yeah, you got me. Though I really did tell him to stop with the Shartley crap."

Ashley finally let a full laugh out. "Good for you." She paused, scooting up so that she could lean against the wall. Enticing food smells drifted out from the restaurant, but they were easy to ignore since she was still mostly full from breakfast.

"I sense your hesitation," Chris stated.

"Your senses have spoken to you correctly," she shot back. "No, it's just… Chris, are you at least actively seeking out something else?"

"Yes," he said right away. It was almost as if he spoke too quickly, yet he remained confident with his answer, nodding vigorously. "I actually should definitely have a job within a few weeks."

"Just definitely?" she responded, playfully reaching up to push his glasses up a bit. "Not 'probably maybe possibly kind of definitely'?"

He fake-scowled at her. "Oh, shush."

They stayed quiet for a while, slouched against the wall, her hand resting under his on top of her thigh. Ashley was almost surprised with herself, too, that she wasn't bothered by him quitting his job. Brad had been pretty awful after all, and although she would miss hearing about his idiotic antics, at least it meant her boyfriend wouldn't be suffering anymore.

Deep down, however, she still wished they could find a way to be together. She had really been relying on that publisher to accept her book. There were other publishers, but that one was her best shot. With that unsuccessfully under her belt, there was nothing she could do but hope for the best and still work at the bookstore in Portland.

She couldn't help but wonder how long the road to "the best" was.

 **Mike**

Mike had never before in his life wanted to leave a place this much.

Yeah, so the Space Needle was cool. Alright. You could see pretty much all of Seattle or whatever from the top. That was just fine.

But he hated not being there with Jess. Knowing she was sitting back in their hotel room feeling like crap made him seriously wish he'd just stayed with her, no matter how much she argued.

When Josh finally announced it was time to leave, Mike shot up from the bench as if he'd sat on a thumbtack.

Emily eyed his tense posture as they stepped into the elevator. "Jeez, Mike, if you didn't even want to go you should've just stayed back."

"What?" he replied dismissively. "I was just... ready to leave. I'd seen all there was for me to see."

Before long they emerged back out onto the street, and Mike was the in the lead as they headed back to the hotel. It was almost lunchtime, so they decided to go their separate ways and eat lunch, then reconvene in the lobby later that night.

"Wow, man. It's like you left a trail of breadcrumbs for us to follow," Josh commented as Mike swooped around the corner into the stairwell.

"I sure did," Mike said absently, barely hearing the door slam behind him.

Mike burst into the room and found Jess laying on the bed with eyes wide like an owl's. He leaped onto the squeaky mattress, tossing his jacket on the floor and holding her close. "How are you?"

She gulped, barely registering his touch. She remained limp as a ragdoll in his arms. "Fine. Just fine." After hesitating, she asked, "How was it?"

"It sucked," he grumbled, relaxing against his pillow. "Wasn't much to see."

"Yeah, right."

"Yeah, really. And I felt bad that you didn't get to see it too," he said honestly.

Words faded on his tongue, and neither spoke for a bit. She finally seemed to notice that she was wrapped in his embrace, and at last she melted into his side. He tried to kiss her cheek, but her head turned away, perhaps accidentally.

"Jess," he whispered. One of his arms was around her shoulders, and he used that hand to gently stroke her jawbone. "Please just tell me."

"There's nothing to tell you," she said, leaning her head on his hand. "I just feel sick. That's the end of it."

Doubt filled every fiber of his body. She was hiding something from him, and it really freaked him out.

Then she said something barely audible. "Michael..." He watched her hands clench and unclench the sheet. "Do you like kids?"

It was an odd question, and his immediate answer would be yes, because it was probably the answer that would please her most. And yet he was reminded of something that happened a few days ago when he and the guys were walking around the city.

They were heading back to the hotel, and Mike had taken his hands out of his pockets for once because it wasn't as chilly. They stopped at an intersection and waited to cross.

From across the street, a little kid was clinging to his mother's coat. He was smaller than most kids his age, no older than two or three, and barely able to stand on his stubby legs. His nose was running and and it was rubbed raw, giving it the appearance of a bright red clown nose. Against his better judgment, Mike actually thought he was a cute little guy, with his wide blue eyes and perfect set of tiny baby teeth.

He was planning on waving hello to the kid as he and the others walked by, but just as Mike lifted his three-fingered hand in friendly greeting, the kid gasped and pointed a grubby finger at it.

"Mommy, where did his fingers go?" the kid shrieked.

Shame flooding him, Mike right away crammed his hands back into his pockets before the woman could even look. He picked up the pace, ignoring the multiple pairs of eyes on him.

Mike returned to the present. Jess's question was still unanswered. Grimacing, he shook his head. "Eh, I actually don't really-"

There was a loud knock on their door, and Matt's voice boomed through the old, flimsy wood. "Mike, my man! We going or not?"

"What?" Mike yelled back, irritated that they were interrupted. Jess sat up, crawling all the way under the covers and staring at the ceiling. She looked like she'd just watched all of her loved ones get murdered.

"Just you and I are going to the sports bar down the street, 'member?" Matt said.

Mike groaned as he recalled that he had, indeed, agreed to do that. His eyes darted to his girlfriend, but her eyes were closed. "Jess..."

"Go ahead," she said. A forced grin sat on her face.

"Are you sure, because I-"

"Really, you can go. It's fine," Jess assured him.

A deep frown creased his forehead and he watched her breathe a few more seconds. It relaxed him; yeah, she'd be fine. He climbed off the bed, picked up his windbreaker, and joined Matt.

 **Sam**

It was nearly dusk. Shadows were draped over the sidewalks as the sun dipped behind the buildings.

Sam was was moving at a brisk pace, trying to keep her hair under control in the breeze. She had it down for once, and the feeling of it tickling her neck was strange. She'd always kept it pretty short, but now the blonde waves reached down past her chest. _I guess I forgot to keep track of it._

She couldn't quite understand why she had agreed to do this. She still really hated him, but at the same time she was intrigued. So, so helplessly intrigued. Her curiosity had gotten the better of her.

It had taken her ages to get dressed. After sporting yoga pants and an old t-shirt all day, she decided to change her outfit. She wanted it to seem like she'd made an effort, but at the same she didn't want him to think that she cared _too_ much.

So, naturally, it had been difficult to choose, especially when she refused to confide in any friends. Not even Hannah, who clearly wanted them to get together. Because Sam didn't have her best friend to instruct her on what not to wear, she was utterly lost.

Finally, however, she had settled on a nice pair of dark wash jeans and a flattering red blouse. After debating it for a solid ten minutes, Sam decided to let her hair be free from its usual confinement.

She arrived at the address he had given her, and stood dumbfounded as she was bathed in the bright lights of an old-fashioned movie theater. The countless lightbulbs were blinding, standing out harshly against the dying daylight.

"Seriously? The movies?" She sighed, crossing her arms and leaning against the the overwhelmingly-colorful building as she waited.

It took only a few minutes for him to step out from the shady sidewalk and into her view. For once he was wearing a crisp, eggplant-colored button down, something other than his signature flannel. "Hey," he greeted her.

"Hello," she answered nonchalantly.

"Your hair-" he started.

"One snarky comment and I'm putting it back up," she interjected, sending him an additional glare for good measure.

He put his hands up in surrender. "I was just going to say that it looks- _you_ look- great."

"Oh," she said. She straightened, taking her weight off the wall and approaching him as he headed inside the building. "Great?"

He turned, smiling over his shoulder at her. His dark eyes gleamed, reflecting the glow of the light bulbs behind them. "Greater than great," he confirmed.

Sam walked stiffly beside him, mumbling a "thanks, you too" and wondering what she'd gotten herself into.


	11. Invigorating

**Jess**

Jess waited until Mike's warmth had faded from the bed, then she got up, grabbed her coat and her purse, and headed out of the room.

She really was hoping that her suspicions were just that: nothing more than a mere guess. And yes, she was late, but she'd figured it was just a side effect of the pill. It was what she wanted to believe.

On her way through the lobby, Jess spotted Chris and Ashley eating in the hotel café, but was secretly relieved that they didn't notice her. She didn't want any accompaniment, not right now. Not yet.

And it seemed that she was safe, nice and alone; as far as she knew, besides Ash and Chris, everyone else was out on their own.

Fifteen minutes later she was back in her and Mike's hotel room bathroom, sitting on the closed toilet seat as she stared at the pregnancy test in her hands. She had been blushing profusely while purchasing it at the CVS down the street, because the pimply teenager scanning her items was staring at her the entire time.

But now, at last, she was in the safety of her own room. Alone, alone, alone. Everyone else was who knows where, but at _least_ she had her privacy.

Two pink lines was positive. One pink line meant negative.

She waited, glancing at her phone. Four minutes.

One pink line was negative. Just a stomach bug, then.

Three minutes.

Two pink lines was positive. She and Mike weren't even married.

Two minutes.

One pink line was negative. She could put this scare behind her.

One minute.

Two pink lines was positive. She was between jobs.

Thirty seconds. Her heart was beating in her throat.

And finally, it was time. Jess picked up the test. At first, her hand was shaking so much that she couldn't even read the result.

She decided to just rest it on her thigh, and glaring up at her were two pink lines. _Fuck._

She felt sick, but she knew this wasn't the kind of nausea that would send her retching over the toilet. She felt sick because she remembered what Mike said.

He didn't like kids. So why the hell would he want a baby?

 **Sam**

 _Am I doing the right thing by giving him a chance?_

This question wouldn't leave Sam alone as they bought their tickets. She flipped the thought over and over in her mind like a pancake, trying to understand herself.

 _I should still be leery of him. Just because he's acting "normal" doesn't mean he's on his meds… he's fooled us— me— before and he could do it again…_

 _But I can't just be a bitch to him. It's been six years, and we're already here, so I might as well give him a chance. Even if this date's location gives me a flashback to middle school._

They were standing in the line for the snack bar.

"These prices are insane," Josh remarked, gesturing to the menu overhead. The ancient board glowed with a flickering light, displaying the usual items such as popcorn and ICEE drinks in plain black letters.

"Always have been, always will be," Sam agreed, digging her wallet out of her purse. "So whataya think? Split a medium popcorn and a diet—"

"Sam. Sam, Sam, Sam," Josh chastised her, and she blinked at him in confusion.

"… I heard you the first time you said my name," she teased.

"Sam, don't be a fool," he smirked, taking out his own wallet. It was old, and actually looked quite familiar— she soon realized it was the same wallet as he had six years ago. It was just a bit more worn at the edges, exposing the corners of the cards packed inside. "First off, I'm paying. Second, if I'm spending this much money, then I'm gonna go all-out. _Large_ popcorn and a _large_ soda."

" _Diet_ soda," she put in, and he rolled his eyes before turning around and giving their order to the worker.

A few minutes later, they were sitting in the darkened theater waiting for the movie to begin. Sam was conscious of how close her arm was to his on the armrest they shared. After debating it, she decided to rest her arm in her lap instead, propping the popcorn bag between them.

"Hey, so…" he began, and she trained her attention on him. His face was contorted uncomfortably, and he was scratching the back of his head. "Is it weird if I tell Chris about this—"

"Woah, hold your horses," she interrupted, gazing right into his eyes. "There will be no telling of this to anyone about our d— about… _this_. Not a peep. Please."

He frowned, and she felt some remorse. "Why?"

"I just want it to be a secret for now," Sam stated, folding her arms over her abdomen. She felt ridiculously self-conscious with her hair down, and instinctively one of her hands kept playing with a wavy strand.

"Right," he said. The theater darkened the rest of the way as the last few previews cycled through.

"No, it's just… Josh," she whispered desperately, eliciting a few glares from nearby people. Against her better judgment, she touched his wrist, and right away his eyes snapped over in her direction. "We'll never hear the end of it from our friends if they know we…"

"It's fine, I get it," he replied, and that was the end of it. If she said another word, then they'd probably get kicked out.

As the movie played, Sam barely heard anything the characters were saying. It was a bland, cliché comedy, something starring Jennifer Aniston playing somebody named Kate or whatever.

She noticed Josh laugh a few times at some expertly-dropped lines by Ben Stiller, but it was clear he wasn't really any more engrossed in the film than she was.

Sam hadn't meant for him to take it the wrong way, but she knew how Hannah, for example, would get if she found out her brother and best friend went on a date. There would be constant teasing, and within ten seconds Sam and Josh would have their own ship name. They would never hear the end of it, even if things didn't work out between them.

But what if… what if things _did_ work out? Maybe this wouldn't be the last date. And if this movie would just hurry up and end, then she could explain to him what she meant—

"Are you gonna get up?"

Sam was startled to see Josh standing above her, the screen still flashing behind him. It was an intimate scene, of course, so luckily there weren't too many grumbles as a bewildered Sam rose to her feet and sneaked out of the theater behind him.

"The movie isn't finished yet—"

The sentence wasn't even out of her mouth when Josh stormed out of the building, expertly tossing the crushed, empty popcorn bag in the trash.

Irritation began to gnaw at her as she followed him outside. It was drizzling a little, and right as she stepped out, a bolt of lightning was scored across the inky-black sky.

"Shit," she muttered, wrapping her coat closer around her.

Josh had turned into a tiny gap between buildings. It wasn't sheltered from the rain, but he didn't appear to care as the water soaked into his hair and what used to be a freshly-ironed shirt.

"Josh, I'm sorry," Sam said, ignoring the icy stabs of rain soaking her scalp. "I just meant that I don't want anyone to know about us yet. I'm not saying it would be a secret forever!"

"So you're not ashamed of me?" Josh asked. His dark eyes were daggers digging into her flesh.

"No!" she yelled over a clap of thunder. A combination of fear and rain blinded her, and she fell against the slimy wall opposite him. "Why the hell would I be ashamed of you?" Sam continued, blinking furiously as water droplets weighed down her eyelashes.

He shook his head, straightening a little against the uneven brick. It was very difficult for her to decipher his expression through the sudden downpour, but the unpleasant fog that had settled over them seemed to be lifted somewhat.

"Josh?" she pressed, clutching the edges of her dripping coat. She was trembling, memories of that night on the mountain returning to her. Being tied up, her head pounding after falling onto the cement floor… the wendigo shrieking into her ear, not even an inch away from her face… hitting the switch that sent the lodge into oblivion, and her sailing over the snow and landing among flaming debris.

"Sam!" he shouted. "It- it's okay. I just… I just want you to understand…"

He was a dark blur in front of her. Her fingers were numb.

"I really, _really_ like you, and I have for a long time," he said. "And I didn't know where to take you tonight because there isn't any place good enough and I didn't know what to say because I was so nervous and…" He gulped. "And I- I used to be scared of heights."

She froze, clawing at the edges of her coat to wrap them closer around her. She felt like a sodden burrito.

"… m- much like how you're scared of storms," he continued. "You don't know it, but you helped me get over that fear of heights. Do you remember that day, in June, seven years ago?"

Sam squeezed her eyes shut. _We were in the tree—_

"We were in the tree, i- in your yard, and you convinced me to come up to you even though I was terrified. But I did it, and we— we almost… well, I just…" Josh took a deep breath, an inhale loud enough for her to hear over the rain smacking the sidewalk. "Sam, I want to help you get over your fear, too."

She couldn't believe it. _I thought I was crazy because I remember that day like it was just last week. But he also still remembers the tree…_

Sam recalled her frustration when Hannah found them. It was the closest she had ever been to his face; she could've sworn she could taste his tongue in the centimeter of space between them.

A smile broke her pained face, and she brushed a few clumps of wet hair out of her way. "Josh," she murmured, sidling closer to him. "You can help me start to get over my fear by finishing what we left undone on that day."

Then she rushed forward into his arms, embracing the heat as their bodies collided. Her eyes were barely open for a second, but that second provided her enough time to see the shock on his face as she leaned in and pressed her lips against his.

It was a surreal experience, and she hadn't even known how much she had been waiting for it until it happened. It took a moment, but then he began to kiss her back, and the moment elevated. Her heart danced in her chest, and as she rested her freezing fingers over his sturdy body, she could feel the thrum of his heart as well.

They stayed connected for a while, each craving the other's warmth. Sam broke it off just as suddenly as she had initiated it. Her face was warmed up from a deep scarlet blush, as if she had eaten a spicy cinnamon candy, but the fire in her mouth was pleasant. It was sparks, bright fireworks contrasting against a night sky. It was invigorating. They were both breathless, struggling to fill their lungs in the receding rain.

Then Josh moved close to her again, and she saw his eyes gleam as he took her hands in his. He folded his fingers over hers, warming them up. "That was…" He struggled to find the words.

"It was long overdue," Sam told him confidently even as her heart still fluttered. "And it was amazing."

He could only nod in agreement, a joyful grin unable to be erased from his lips.

As the dark clouds released the last of the rain, the two stepped out from the little alcove and headed down the street back to the hotel. Everything was the same, and yet now everything was different.

Sam beamed, wiping smeary mascara off her cheek. Now she had a new memory to associate with thunderstorms. New, and so, so much better.

* * *

 **Okay, so that was cliché as hell, but it was fun to write sooooo there you go**


	12. Promise

**Chris**

"What is _up_ with you, bro?" Chris demanded.

He and Josh were sitting in the bar of a neighboring hotel, the other three guys nearby at a table. His friend wore such a faraway look on his face that Chris wasn't sure if Josh would even know what year it was, should he ask him.

"What?" Josh grunted, shaking his head slowly as he returned to the present. He took in his surroundings with mild surprise, as if he'd just been dropped in there like a kitten into a nest of eaglets.

"I asked you what your problem is," Chris repeated, sipping his beer.

Josh shifted on his bar stool and picked at the label on his bottle. He wouldn't meet Chris's eyes. "I can't say," he mumbled.

"Well, now I just want to know even more," Chris replied stubbornly.

It was later that same night. Once again, the group had met up pretty late before guys and girls separated again. While the girls were back at their hotel, the three men decided to walk down the street to a bar to meet Mike and Matt.

Josh was still fairly wet from the rain, but had refused to change out of his dark purple button down, which now clung to him like a second skin. If it weren't for the heat blasting in the bar, then Chris had no doubt his friend would be frozen into an icicle by now.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," Chris said, turning a bottle cap over between his thumb and forefinger. "But I'll be thinking about it and bothering you until—"

"Fine!" Josh gave in, sending him a warning glare. "You'll be pleased to hear that during our free time, Sam and I met up."

Chris tried not to let his grin stretch too wide. Finally, Josh and Sam took a step forward together! It was torturous watching them secretly pine for each other that week. Chris had finally understood how the others must have felt being around him and Ash before they admitted their feelings.

"Soooo… 'met up' as in hookup or—"

"No, we didn't _hook up_ , for Christ's sake," Josh said sharply. "It was just a silly little date. I took her to the old-fashioned theater on Fifth. Nothing special."

"Oh," Chris said, unable to disguise his disappointment. "So nothing happened?"

Josh rolled his eyes. "Of course something happened."

"Then why are you belittling it?"

"Because…" Josh groaned, raking through his dark hair. "I can't tell you. I'm sorry. I've already broken my promise to Sam just by saying we went somewhere!"

Chris nodded slowly, observing the other man's face. Josh appeared exasperated, his eyes nearly bugging out of his head. The edge of his bottle was perched on his lips but he didn't tilt it back to drink. "Okay. Right. I didn't realize you and her made a pact of secrecy. I'll let you be."

Silence settled between them, squeezing in on an imaginary bar stool. Chris's thoughts meandered on to other things, which included wondering why Matt favored a bar that wouldn't even give them beers in glasses. _Seems a bit shabby to me, that they give it to us still in the bottle_ , Chris thought with some sarcasm. _It's as if they think we're a bunch of apes who don't know how to drink out of a real glass—_

"We kissed," Josh blurted out.

Chris tensed up, then relaxed. He offered Josh a toothy smile and patted his back. "Alright, then. Let it out, I guess."

"S- she kissed me first. I was thinking, like, 'holy shit Sam Giddings is kissing me, _the_ Sam Giddings' and then I remembered to grow a pair and kiss her back," Josh explained swiftly. His knuckles were white as he clutched his bottle, and Chris was almost expecting the glass to crack under the pressure.

Chris chuckled. "Damn. So she made the first move. And let me guess— you two kissed in the rain, and that's why you and her looked the most like drowned rats when we met up afterward."

"Y- yeah," Josh said. He had a faraway look on his face, and a faint smile was traced on his lips. That was, until he grimaced and rested his forehead on his palms. "Shit. She asked me not to tell anyone…"

"I shouldn't have pressured you to tell me," Chris said apologetically.

"No, it's fine… just please, don't mention it to anyone else, not even Ashley," Josh pleaded, staring at his friend forlornly.

"Of course. My lips are sealed," Chris said, making a motion of zipping his mouth shut. "Really, though, congrats. I hope it works out for you guys."

Josh smiled a little. "Thanks. It's embarrassing to admit, but I hadn't even touched a woman in three— oh, no…"

Chris arched his brow. "What?"

"Chris, I… I completely forgot…" Josh whispered. "New Year's Eve, I… I hooked up with my coworker and…"

"So?" Chris said. "Does your coworker have rabies or something?"

"No, but she's like fifteen years older than me or something. And it… it happened in the breakroom closet," Josh informed him, finishing with a wince.

Chris's jaw dropped. "Oh. And you've still got a job?"

"Yes, I do. Nobody caught us, because we were practically the only ones working that day. I was desperate. I wasn't even thinking about the reunion yet at that point, so it's not like I knew I was gonna see Sam in a few months," Josh babbled.

Chris frowned. _Even if he did lose his job, it's not like it'd be the end of the world for him. The Washingtons are still bathing in dollar bills as always._ It was just that Josh refused to take his parents' money whenever possible.

"Well, I won't say you didn't make a mistake, my friend," Chris stated, folding his hands together and looking Josh in the eyes. "This might come back to bite you later."

Josh opened his mouth to reply, but just then they heard an angry yell from behind them. The two guys spun around to find Mike and Daniel in a heated debate.

Chris hopped off his stool and dragged a chair over to the table, Josh doing the same.

"Shut the hell up and stop whining about your stupid girlfriend!" Daniel growled, slamming his half-empty bottle hard enough for amber liquid to slosh out.

Mike fixed him with a murderous scowl. "She is not _stupid_ , you asshole. I'm _worried_ about her, and it's a free goddamn country. I can say whatever I want to!"

Matt was sitting between them, nursing his third beer and looking dazedly from one red-faced man to the other.

"Argue with me again, and I'll make you wish you were never _born_ in a free goddamn country—" Daniel began to retort, but Chris interjected.

"Come on, you guys. Fighting isn't gonna help anything…"

The bar was so empty now that Chris could almost imagine a tumbleweed blowing by. The bartender was nowhere to be seen, and except for another small group periodically glancing in their direction, they were alone; Mike and Daniel were free to scream as loud as they wished.

Daniel's malicious blue gaze flashed to Chris. "Ugh, close your trap already, geek. There's no need for you in this conversation. And clean your fucking glasses! I can't even tell where you're looking, they're so smudged."

His slurred, drunken words didn't really penetrate into Chris. Nevertheless, he still self-consciously whipped off his glasses and rubbed a corner of his shirt over the lenses.

Josh, meanwhile, was fuming. Leaning forward, he tapped the sandy-haired man's shoulder. When Daniel turned, Josh gathered his shirt collar in his fist and yanked him forward so they were nose to nose.

For the second time that night, Chris's mouth hung open limply. Josh's movements seemed completely powered by alcohol, even though he wasn't as drunk as the other three were.

"You listen to me. If you think you can insult my friends like that, you've got another thing coming. It's called my fist," Josh snarled before letting Daniel drop back into his seat.

Daniel seemed only a little bit fazed. He quickly resumed tormenting them. "I don't really give a crap what you all think about me. Because you know what? I'm sexy, I'm good in bed. Beth likes me. So I…" He paused, clumsily wagging a finger in Josh's face. "I, I ain't goin' nowhere, pal."

 **Ashley**

Ashley was curled up on an old armchair, sipping a steaming mug of hot cocoa. She was in Jessica and Mike's room, which was decidedly the most comfortable one. All of the girls were hanging out there after dinner, when everyone had gone their separate ways.

She was grateful that she and Chris had decided to settle for their hotel café for another night. Everyone else who had gone out came back drenched from the rain, Sam in particular. Her hair was still drying, her ponytail hanging in wet clumps.

Jess had let everyone in before scurrying back into the bathroom, where she had been for almost five minutes now. Ashley was getting worried, and she and Sam kept exchanging glances while Emily, Hannah, and Beth blabbed on about something or other.

Then Ashley felt her phone vibrate from where it was on her knee, and as she looked down at it she noticed Sam doing the same thing.

 _Jess: Can you guys come to the bathroom really quick?_

Ashley blinked. Sam was the only other one in the group chat, and the redhead saw that she was typing.

 _Sam: What about the others?_

 _Jess: It's fine. They'll find out eventually_

Curiosity sparked somewhere within Ashley. She was just happy to be included in this little thing; maybe she and Jess were closer than she'd originally thought, especially since the blonde and Emily still hadn't gotten along much since the group reunited.

 _Ashley: Find out what?_

 _Jess: Just please come here, and you'll see_

Ashley stood up and cleared her throat, but Sam beat her to it. "Hey guys, Jess needs Ash and I's opinion on which shirt she should wear, so we'll be right back." She and Ashley started to slip away, but then Beth piped up.

"But why? It's not like we're not going anywhere tonight."

"Yeah," Hannah muttered. "Even if she came out in her pajamas, I wouldn't be offended."

Ashley sighed, this time beating Sam to the punchline. "Sometimes a girl just wants to look nice, alright? We'll be back."

She heard Emily scoff as she and Sam opened the door to the bathroom, slid in, and then locked the door behind them.

Jess was sitting on the bath mat on the floor, her legs crossed and her face buried in her hands. Her hair was loose, spilling down her back, and wavy from the braid she'd had in that day.

Ashley couldn't quite place what was the matter until she glanced at the counter at the same time Sam inhaled sharply in surprise.

Lined up along the counter were three different used pregnancy tests. Fearlessly Sam picked one up, and Ashley leaned closer. One pink line, negative. Two pink lines, positive.

That one had two pink lines.

The next one said that a plus sign meant positive, and a negative sign meant, of course, negative.

That one had a plus sign.

The final one was fancier, and probably cost at least five bucks at the drugstore. It literally told you, written out and everything, "pregnant" or "not pregnant."

That one said, clearly in little black letters, "pregnant."

"Oh my God, Jess," Ashley whispered, looking from Sam's concerned frown to her other friend, who was crying quietly on the floor. Almost instinctively, Ashley and Sam got onto the floor and squeezed in on either side of her, forming a three-person hug.

"It'll be okay," Sam assured her. "And whatever you do, we'll be by your side. Right, Ash?"

Ashley nodded vigorously. "Of course."

A few minutes later, they'd convinced Jess to stand up and go out to the others. "You don't have to tell them right away," Sam said to her, her arm around her back. "Do it whenever you feel comfortable."

As Ashley opened the door, Jess said in a raspy voice, "No, I… I might as well tell them now. I trust you guys, but somehow they'll find out sooner or later."

"Ah, there she is!" Beth greeted Jess cheerfully, but her smile soon fell when she saw the blonde's red and puffy eyes.

"Are you okay?" Hannah asked uncertainly.

Jess took a seat on the couch between Ashley and Sam and took a deep breath. Ashley couldn't even imagine how difficult this was for her.

"Em, Beth, Han," Jess said as she exhaled and clasped her hands in front of her. "I'm… I'm… I think— I'm pregnant."

Beth and Hannah gasped, but Emily arched her brow. "You think? Did you take a test?"

Jess nodded, her eyes shut to stop the tears. "Three."

"And what did they say?" Em prompted.

"They were all p- positive," Jess told her.

Emily's eyebrows raised; it was the first time Ashley had seen her genuinely surprised in a long time. But the expression was soon wiped from her face before Jess could see it, and her usual nonchalant look was restored. "Well then don't just _think_ you're pregnant, hon, 'cause you _are_."

Beth finally seemed to remember how to speak again, for she blurted, "Is it Mike's?"

Again Jess nodded. Ashley noticed Hannah's face turn a shade of red.

"How far along do you think you are?" Sam asked softly, her hand still on Jess's back.

Jess's shoulders moved under her hand as she shrugged. "I don't know… probably not more than—" She cut herself off and sat up, looking as if she'd seen a ghost. "Oh my God… New Year's!" she cried, returning her face to her hands.

"New Year's?" Beth said.

"That must be when it happened. It was the heat of the moment; we were a little tipsy; he must've forgotten to put on a condom…" Jess trailed off. "And clearly my birth control has failed me."

Everyone was silent for a minute, since even Jess's crying had reduced to silent tears. Then Ashley said gently, "I know you don't have to decide right now, but… are you going to…"

Jess lifted up her face, slowly sliding her gaze over everyone. "I- I don't know," she began slowly. "I mean, this is pretty shitty timing… I'm between jobs, after all… but it's Mike and I's own fault we conceived in the first place." Through her tears, she smiled a little. "I'll tell him soon and we'll go from there. But please, guys, don't mention anything to Matt or Chris or Josh or anyone yet, okay?"

"Of course," a few of them said, while the rest nodded simultaneously, still in shock.


	13. Dazed

**Josh**

Josh couldn't get the image out of his head. Her face as she moved towards him, the grin playing at her mouth, and the twinkle in her eyes.

The feeling of Sam's lips moving against his was enough to make him feel like he was floating in midair. He was weightless, free from the pressures of gravity and life. The only thing in his world was her.

He had never expected Sam to be the one to make the first move, but it pleased him nonetheless. He didn't have to be the bumbling, awkward teenager from his high school days, asking "So, uh, do we kiss now or what?"

There were no questions asked, and the only answer given was him returning the advancement. He hadn't been quite sure what to do with his hands. Hers were resting on his chest, a thin layer away from his throbbing heart. So he decided to wrap his arms around her, resting his fingers around the small of her back. It had been a satisfying posture, and made him forget all about the discomfort of the pouring rain around them.

It was only these thoughts of touching noses with Sam, breathless, that kept him sane around his sister's jackass of a boyfriend. Alcohol had made both of their minds fuzzy, Daniel's more so.

"I ain't goin' nowhere, pal," Daniel growled like a grizzly bear, shaking his finger in Josh's face.

"Don't call me pal," Josh warned, suddenly too tired to argue. He only wanted to return to her. He didn't want to be stuck sitting with the guys in a near-empty bar. Scooting back his chair and standing up, he announced, "Why… why don't we go back to our hotel now?"

Chris glanced at him, concerned, and also rose to his feet. "Yeah, guys," he agreed. "It's getting late…"

"Late?" Daniel scoffed. " _Late_? It's quarter after eleven!" he said, slamming the home button on his phone so that the time popped up.

"Well, I'm _tired_ ," Josh replied, kicking back his chair the rest of the way and stepping out of Daniel's range of motion to avoid any possible swipes.

Matt got up, tripping over his chair as he downed the rest of his beer, then stole Mike's bottle and tipped it back so the last few drops dripped onto his tongue.

"Fine, fine," Daniel conceded, following Mike's lead as they began to make their way out of the bar. "Go back. Bang your girlfriends like I know I'll be banging mine."

Josh felt his fists clench. Stopping in his tracks, he whirled around to face him. Some satisfaction washed over him when he noticed the crinkle from where he had grabbed him still present in Daniel's otherwise spotless shirt.

"That's my _sister_ you're talking about," Josh snapped, unable to stop himself.

"Oh, gee, I forgot," Daniel responded. "Hope I don't nail her twin by accident."

Josh grinded his teeth together. He wished he could rush forward and violently slap that vile smirk off his face. How in the hell could Beth be with _him_ , of all people?

"C'mon, Josh, just keep walking," Chris muttered in his friend's ear. "Don't let him get to you."

That was when Daniel's laugh exploded out of him. It was nasty like a hyena's cackle, and it made Josh's skin crawl.

"I think it's a bit too late for that," Daniel said, crossing his burly arms. "Would you look at him? He's red as a tomato!"

"Just _stop it_ ," Mike urged him.

Daniel snorted. "Hell will freeze over before I let others tell me what to do." He faced Josh again, arching his brow challengingly. "You said it, Josh Wash: it's late. Let's go back to the hotel so you can sneak off and make out with that Samantha chick."

The tang of Daniel's breath, laced with alcohol, stung Josh's nose. He tried to keep himself under control, and Chris lingering next to him in support helped somewhat.

Nevertheless, Josh couldn't allow _him_ to have the last word. "I don't want to make out with Sam," he lied, miraculously maintaining an even tone.

"Please! You've been making eyes at her nonstop this entire week. Just fuck her already or leave well enough alone," Daniel yelled.

Angry red swarmed Josh's vision, a blinding fog that shut off his brain completely. Storming up to him, he swung his fist at Daniel's jaw, wiping his perfectly tanned face of that awful smug grin.

As his knuckles connected with the asshat's face, a great feeling of gratification mixed with regret overwhelmed Josh. The second the punch was made, he was yanked backward by Chris and Mike while Daniel reeled the other way, holding his formerly flawless face. There was no blood, but Josh knew he'd hit him hard enough to leave a significant bruise.

"Alright, alright, we're getting out of here _now_ ," Chris announced, leaving Mike to hold back Josh while he pushed open the door, ushering Matt outside.

"I told you!" Josh screamed at the fair-haired man as Mike pulled him through the door. Daniel was beginning to stand after staying crouched for a minute. If looks could kill, Josh would be long gone.

"You insulted my sisters, you insulted my... my friend, and you met my fist! How does it feel now, motherfucker?" Josh got these last few words out as the door shut behind them.

Mike set him back on the ground with a grunt.

The frosty air on the street was a relief to Josh compared to the heat in the bar, which felt like a sauna. As typical in Seattle, it was precipitating a little. Josh rolled up the sleeves of his now bone-dry button down, relishing the feel of the mist on his skin.

Matt chuckled, stumbling drunkenly forward with his hands in his pockets. "I commend you, Josh. Well done. Dumbass needed to be taught a lesson."

Now that Josh was no longer blinded by fury, however, he sighed, flexing his sore hand. "Yeah… that's gonna come back to haunt me later, isn't it?"

Chris merely offered him a sympathetic smile as he opened the door to their hotel.

The lobby was almost deserted, and the guys easily marched across it and into the stairwell. Josh brought up the rear, glancing behind him worriedly in case Daniel was to show up.

Right when he turned around, however, the door opened again quietly, and his stomach flipped as he prepared to get his ass kicked. The others had already gone up; he would have to fend for himself.

But it wasn't Daniel who opened the door, it was Sam. His heart fluttered, and the second she'd jogged up the eight steps to him he swept her into his arms and kissed her.

She made a muffled noise, and he released his hold on her. "What?"

"Josh! Are you crazy?" she whispered, hazel eyes wide as she peered over her shoulder. "What if somebody saw us?"

Frowning, Josh moved up another few steps from her. "Isn't everyone else upstairs?"

Sam shook her head quickly. "No! Beth and I were in the lobby waiting for you guys to come back. You all speed walked past us like you were past your curfew. Where was Dan—"

She was cut off by him returning to her, pecking her on the lips again. " _Were_ we past our curfew?"

He could see her try to disguise a giggle. "Nooo, but…" Her gaze shifted downward, and her already big eyes expanded. "Jesus, what happened to your fist?"

Josh followed her stare, then raised his right hand. His knuckles were darkened, bruised black-and-blue. "Oh, this? I just… kind of… knocked the smirk off Danny boy's face."

Sam gaped at him. "No kidding…"

Just then the door whined open and Beth entered, starting to head upstairs briskly until she noticed them. "Hello, you two…?" she greeted them suspiciously.

Embarrassment flooded Josh, who bent down as if to search the floor. "Hmm. Sam, I can't seem to find your contact anywhere," he mused, refusing to look up at her and his sister.

He heard Beth snicker. "Oh? Sam, I didn't know you wore contacts… or any eye correction, for that matter." Josh risked a look at them, and found Sam crossing her arms and hunching her shoulders, forcing an awkward smile.

"Yep. I sure do. Blind as a bat without 'em," she assured her.

"Right," Beth said, clearly unconvinced. "Well, I'd help you look for it, but I've gotta catch Daniel. He stomped right by me and took the elevator. Can't wait to see what that's about…"

Once she was gone, Josh got back up, shooting Sam a sheepish wince. "Sorry. That was the first excuse I could think of."

She smiled, tucking a blonde strand behind her ear. "It really was pretty bad," she teased him. "Since when do contacts just fall out of people's eyes?"

He rolled his eyes, turning to start his trek up the stairs as she followed. "Well, I wouldn't know," he pointed out. "And neither would you."

They traveled the rest of the way up quietly. He walked at her side until they arrived at her room. She placed her key card in the slot, hesitated, then spun around and finally returned his kiss. It only lasted a few seconds, but it was suitable enough to make Josh smile dazedly like an idiot. "Good night," she murmured.

"Night," he said.

 **Jess**

Jess's morning sickness wasn't any better now that she knew the truth. The only thing she felt like drinking was lemon-lime Gatorade, which she considered odd since normally that flavor tasted like soap to her.

So the next morning, she slid out of Mike's warm embrace, ran a brush through her hair, and put on a windbreaker over her tank top and leggings.

As she quietly shut the door, by instinct she self-consciously looked down at her chest in the low-cut shirt. The scars were barely visible, but that was just in this lighting, of course. The embarrassment and hiding them under turtlenecks for several months was still nothing compared to the pain she felt when she got the wounds. _To feel claws grabbing at you and dragging you away, not knowing what has you or where you're going is truly a living hell,_ she thought to herself, shuddering.

It had taken a while for Mike to convince her that she was beautiful even with the scars, but eventually he did, and that was why she loved him so much. Because he wasn't just saying that to get in her pants— he really meant it.

Jess made her way down to the CVS, and was relieved to see that the cashier wasn't the same pimply teenager as yesterday. She grabbed what she wanted and got in line.

Whoever was at the front of the line was having an issue with something, because Jess was still standing in the same spot ten minutes later, while more people accumulated behind her. She sighed loudly, glancing down at her phone and wondering why the hell the store wouldn't open another station.

Then she heard a voice from right behind her. "Hey, blondie. Nice ass. What do you say we ditch this line and go somewhere else?"

Jess tried not to laugh. _Wow, a guy is hitting on me? It's been a while._ She didn't even bother turning around, instead saying, "Eff off. Not interested."

"Aw, come on. Please? Will you help a lonely guy out?"

She chewed on her lip. _Hmm. A persistent one._ Barely glancing over her shoulder, she said, "Trust me, you wouldn't want my 'help.' I'm sick. Throwing up. It's gross."

The guy chuckled and she could feel his breath on her neck. "Well, we don't have to do mouth stuff, sweetheart."

Her grip on the Gatorade tightened, and irritation swept over her. _I swear to God, this jackass…_ She spun around, scowling at the stranger, who had shaggy brown hair and uneven stubble. " _Please_ leave me the hell alone—"

"But why is a hot chick like you all alone? We can—"

She looked him dead in the face, her glare murderous. "Look, asshole," she said, now loud enough for surrounding people to hear, "I'm pregnant, alright? That's why I'm throwing up. So—"

The slimeball's face twisted, incredulous. "No way in hell you're pregnant! You're just saying that to get rid of me. Come on, I can show you—"

An older man standing behind him stepped forward, firmly placing his hand on the sicko's shoulder. "You heard the young lady. Eff off."

Jess looked gratefully at the nicer stranger, but even with his shoulder being squeezed the slimeball didn't look fazed. "I'm _not_ lying to you. I can pee on a stick for the fourth time if that is what it will take to prove it to you, and get you the hell away from me," she hissed.

Finally, he started to look a little stunned, and he winced as the other man's grip on his shoulder tightened. "Fine. Fine. I believe you," he said, gritting his teeth and shying away from his hurting shoulder. "But you don't _look_ pregnant. We can still fuck."

"Did you ever consider that I might have a boyfriend?" Jess snarled, and before the slimeball could say anything else, the kinder stranger had gotten an employee to help him escort the idiot out of the store. "Thank you so much," she said to them both as her fellow customer got back in line. "He really wouldn't budge."

The man sighed and shook his head. "That was pretty bad. But you're smart for thinking up that lie… you'd think it would've worked."

After many ages, the line shifted forward, and Jess was next to be checked out. She smiled at him. "Thanks, but it really isn't a lie."

"Oh!" He blinked, grinning awkwardly. "Well, congratulations, then. Good luck."

"Thanks," she replied as she stepped up to the counter, handing her now-lukewarm Gatorade to the cashier to be scanned. "I'll need it."


	14. Long Night

**Mike**

The second Jess walked through their door, he stood up and pulled her into his arms. "There you are," he murmured into her sweet-smelling hair.

"Wha…? I just ran to CVS really quick," she mumbled into his hoodie. Stepping back, she held up a bottle of lemon-lime Gatorade.

His brow furrowed as she stepped around him, twisting open the cap of the drink and taking a few sips. "But you hate the yellow kind," he said, perplexed.

"I, uh…" She paused, glancing from him to the bottle. "I decided to give this flavor another try?" The sentence came out sounding like a question, and Mike easily sensed her uncertainty as she spun away from him and crouched at her suitcase.

His eyes lingered on her back for a while, but she wouldn't look at him again. She kept digging through her clothes like a dog digging to find his buried bone.

Her strange behavior was really throwing him for a loop, and it worried him to no end. "Jess, I… please… can you just tell me why you're acting so…"

At last she straightened, casting her alluring mist-colored eyes in his direction. An anxious frown sat on her lips. "I don't know how to tell you, Mike," she admitted, her voice not much more than a whisper. "You've got to understand—"

"But I don't understand!" Mike protested. "Babe, we've been together for six-and-a-half years now. I thought you felt you could tell me anything. Because I, I—"

"Michael—"

"… I know I can tell you anything," he concluded, his voice breaking.

He gazed at her, desperately, silently willing for her to speak. But she just shook her head quickly, tears glittering in her eyes as she turned away.

That evening was their final night in Seattle. Everyone had decided to meet together in a corner of the lobby, and Matt was bringing eleven beers over from his new favorite bar. It was yet another cold and rainy night, which put Mike in the mood to hang out indoors by the fireplace.

Some of the others helped him arrange the big armchairs around a large coffee table. Once they were in a circle and the others began to settle in, Mike glanced around the fairly busy lobby. His eyes raked through the crowd, searching person after person. But his girlfriend's wavy blonde hair and sweetly grinning face were nowhere to be found.

"So, Matt," Sam said, sitting gingerly on the edge of a chair. "Not sick of Seattle's local brew yet?"

Matt chuckled, leaning across the table to hand her an opened bottle. "Nah, never!" he assured her.

Mike grabbed a bottle of his own and set one aside for Jess, if she ever decided to show up. He hadn't seen much of her today. In fact, they hadn't even spoken since their upsetting conversation that morning.

Flicking the loosened cap off, Mike took a generous swig and tried to tune into the conversation.

Just when he was really listening in, however, Jess appeared, and instinctively he moved over on his armchair to make space for her. She collapsed into his side, resting her head on his chest and curling her legs into the cracked leather.

"Here you go," he muttered to her, transferring a bottle from his hand to hers. She grinned stiffly, taking off the cap and setting it on the table.

"Last night in Seattle, guys!" Mike announced suddenly, raising his bottle and clinking it with everyone else's. Jess wriggled deeper into the oversized armchair, and he smiled at her as she lifted her bottle to her lips, then quickly put it down again.

Mike noticed the girls staring at Jess with either wide eyes or open mouths, but then Jess shook her head at them. _Must be some kind of girl code they have together,_ he thought to himself, shrugging it off.

Sam sat up next, putting down her bottle and smiling from person to person. "Alright, so… I just have to say this… thank you, Josh, for inviting us here. I… I forgot how much I missed you guys."

Murmurs of agreement rose up from everyone else.

"And…" Sam sighed. "This week went even better than I'd expected. I definitely want to see you all again soon, because I've rediscovered some amazing friendships."

"Agreed!" Chris exclaimed, beaming. He and Ashley were sharing the chair opposite Mike and Jess. Mike noted the severe blush that was staining Chris's cheeks scarlet as he glanced down at Ashley. "Now, of course… some of us are more than friends…" he added cautiously, running a hand through his fair hair. "So, Ash, I would like to say something, if I may."

Mike's jaw dropped. In a span of three seconds, his gaze flashed from Matt to Josh and back to Chris, who was now getting to his feet. One of his hands sneaked into a pocket. _Holy fuck, he's proposing!_

Ashley seemed clueless, however, despite most of the other girls having caught on as well. Jess was tensed, her arm stiff under Mike's hand. "Is he…?" she whispered, unable to elaborate.

"Yes," he answered. "Without a doubt."

"Chris?" Ashley whispered, shifting on the chair.

Mike couldn't help but let a grin form on his face. Chris really had chosen the perfect setting— the chaos in the lobby had died down a little, reduced to a dull murmur. The fireplace crackled nearby, sending caressing waves of heat to battle the freezing rain beyond the windows. It was quite the romantic scene, if it weren't for the nine other pairs of eyes trained on them.

"Ashley Brown, you make my world go around. If I didn't have you, I wouldn't be able to sleep at night. I would be tossing and turning, because a piece of my heart would be… would be missing," Chris began. Beads of sweat shone on his forehead. Mike almost expected his glasses to steam up. "Without you, Ash, I would be positively _lost_. But I do have you, and because—"

"Excuse me, but are you the teenagers who escaped from Blackwood Mountain?"

Mike whirled around, glaring at the person who had interrupted them. "Excuse _me_ , sir, but can't you see our friend's in the middle of—"

"Ah, yes, I do see that now. You must forgive me, Michael, for I do not want you to see me as a nuisance, but I really must intervene right now," the man said, stepping around Mike and Jess's chair. He was a stout man, sporting a full head of dark hair tinged with silver at the tips along with an equally silvered Magnum P.I. mustache. A shiny police badge hung out of his shirt pocket.

Chris's butt landed back on the chair in a hurry, his face even more flushed than before. Ashley looked at him, puzzled, before returning her attention to the apparent officer.

Mike, meanwhile, was still scrutinizing the man with narrowed eyes. "How do you know my name?"

"Actually, I know all of your names," the man told him gruffly, staring down at Mike with unblinking brown eyes. "I've been studying you all closely for the past few months. It's been quite a ride, really, following you all around—"

Emily shot upright, and Matt grabbed her arm while taking another swig of his beer. "What the hell do you mean, 'following us around?'" she nearly shrieked.

"Well, you see," the cop said, stifling a laugh, "I have been obsessed with your case for a while now."

Beth wrinkled her nose. "Who _are_ you?"

"Ah, forgive me. I've forgotten to introduce myself. The name is Gray, Officer David Gray. I'm with the Seattle Police Department." A corner of Gray's mouth, which was almost completely obscured by his bushy mustache, turned upward in a smirk. "Sound familiar?"

Anger surged through Mike. He bolted out of his chair, keeping one hand on Jess's shoulder. Touching her calmed him, so he knew feeling her warmth in some way would help.

But it was Hannah who spoke first. She got to her feet as well, slamming her bottle onto the table. "It was _you_!" she yelled, shattering the hushed peace of the lobby. Nearly every person glanced in their direction, either irritated or mildly concerned. Mike suppressed a sigh— even after all these years, Hannah was still not somebody known for her tact.

Gray waited patiently until most of the eyes were off their backs before muttering, "It was me, you are correct, Hannah. Upon finding the case titled 'Wendigos,' I was hopelessly hooked. It was a shame that the case was colder than a lifeless body, but I blew the dust off and got to work researching. I was lucky, I suppose, that our files had been updated this past June with information on your approximate whereabouts."

Emily's eyes were knives in his flesh, and she bared her teeth in a grimace. "Are you telling me that the cops have been keeping tabs on us for the past six years?"

"Well, yes. Infrequent updates, but enough to help me obtain contact information for all of you." Gray's eyes rolled to the ceiling for a moment as he paced between Josh's chair and Mike's. "You all helped me very much by giving refreshed accounts of what happened on those two nights."

"Yeah, you were so grateful, weren't you?" Ashley mumbled bitterly.

Gray's eyes barely flitted over her. "I most definitely was, and still am, Ashley. Although some of you were harder to reach than others, I might add," he said, clearing his throat and briefly locking eyes with Mike.

Mike recalled the initial call he had gotten from Gray. He had been at work when his cell began to buzz— he usually never answered calls at work unless it was Jess, so upon seeing an unfamiliar number with a Washington state area code, he'd ignored it.

An hour later, the number called again— it was ignored. An hour later to the very second, the number again flashed on his phone's screen. And, begrudgingly, Mike had picked it up.

Nobody spoke again, so Gray continued to explain. "It was very convenient for me to have you all together in the same place, so I commend you, Joshua."

Mike spun toward Josh. "Did you know—" he started accusingly, but then he observed the equally baffled expression on Josh's face. He wasn't any more in the know than Mike was.

"I believe I've already established that I am very interested in this case. I am _deeply_ enthralled. So it is with much pleasure that I offer you all the deal of a lifetime. I have it in my power to make you all instant celebrities."

Mike snorted. "Oh, really? And how exactly would you do that?"

"It would be very easy, actually, Michael," Gray shot back before the last word was fully out of Mike's mouth. "I have already begun to compile notes for an expertly-detailed book based on your… 'misadventures' on those nights. It would then take only a few lifts of my finger to put a movie, and then possibly a video game, into production. You would be worldwide sensations! And your lives would improve drastically, from… well, for example, you wouldn't have to work at Target or 24-hour privately-owned cafes," he droned on, glancing specifically from Josh to Sam while saying his last few words.

"Look, Mr. Gray," Sam said, keeping a firm, serious gaze on him. "I think I speak for all of us when I say that we did not, in any way, shape or form, enjoy our five seconds of fame right after those events. We were fine completely being forgotten by the media after a couple days, because… well, we'd rather forget those nights. So thank you for your dedication to solving our case, but we've given all the information we can give." She grinned cautiously at the others before returning her eyes to Gray. "We'd rather you not publish a book about the hell we went through, let alone put a movie or video game into production. No person ever deserves to return to that mountain, especially not to film what would truthfully be a pretty crappy horror movie."

Mike, and everyone else, nodded in agreement. She'd put his jumbled thoughts into coherent, mostly polite words.

Something, however, seemed to snap within Gray. "You… it _isn't_ enough. You tell us there are wendigos, then urge us that no person should ever go down again to those… those mines. Mixed messages don't solve a case. What I need from you people are legitimate answers. Lots and lots of answers. You hear me?" One of his eyes twitched, and then after a moment of silence, he whirled around and called out into the lobby, "I need backup!"

Mike watched in shock as instantly, every person in the lobby left their posts— even the front desk check-in people. "Tourists" dropped their bags and suitcases and marched over to their cozy corner like robots.

Gray jabbed his thumb in their general direction. "Knock 'em out. Then take them all to separate rooms. Looks like it's gonna be a long night…"

Mike prepared his good hand for a fight, clenching it into a fist and hugging Jess close to him. But there was no time for him to throw a punch; as soon as he felt Jess go limp under his arm, he noticed a pinch in his own arm. The drugs took effect quickly, and a numbness traveled through his veins, shutting down his body in a matter of seconds.

As he faded into unconsciousness, he feebly reached, groping for Jess's hand as black fog swam into his vision.

Gray loomed over him, smiling an unsettling smile. "None of you are leaving Seattle on my watch."

 **Sam**

Sam woke up, and immediately wished she hadn't.

She was strapped into a chair: her wrists and ankles were bound tightly to the old wood, the ropes digging into her skin. The chair seemed to be bolted to the floor; she was powerless.

"Hey!" she called out, scanning over her surroundings. She knew screaming "let me go" would be futile, so she chose not to say another word.

The room was very dark and shadowy, making it just about impossible for her to make out anything in the corners. The floor was gray cement, and a tiny window was in the back behind her. Through it she could see the misty night sky, speckled with weakly glowing stars. _So I'm still in Seattle. Right?_

She squinted and found the door to the room. Another exit option. She recognized the antique brass knob— it was the same kind she had on the door to her room. _I'm still in the hotel._

A voice startled her the rest of the way awake. It boomed from an unknown source, and quite obviously belonged to Gray. At this point, his name was synonymous to _enormously creepy jackass_ , so hearing his condescending tone made Sam shudder with disgust.

"Hello there, Samantha. I hope you enjoyed your nap."

"Like hell I did," she hissed to the dark wall in front of her.

"Do not fret, Samantha. I am very sorry to have done this to you, but it appeared to me that I had no other choice. You are my favorite, so I will go easy on you…"

She strained against the twine, hoping against hope she might break through a weaker knot.

"Don't fight your restraints, Samantha. I know you; in fact, I now know everything about you. You were born on the twenty-first of August, nineteen hundred and ninety-five. You are five feet, zero inches tall. You have a brother two years younger than you who goes by the name Scott. Your parents have been divorced since you were twelve. You maintain a strict vegetarian diet. You hate your current occupations and secretly wish to be a conservationist, as suggested by your love for animals."

Sam's eyes gradually widened as he listed fact after fact. Her grip on the arm rests tightened until her knuckles were bone white. "How…" she whispered.

"… I also know that you'll try to fight, try to be the brave one. The one to protect all others, the considerate 'mother' of the group. But you've got your insecurities, don't you? Deep, deep down, you do."

Sam quit struggling, not wanting to tire herself out. She slouched in the uncomfortable chair as best as she could, shivering as a chilly draft snaked through the room from an unidentifiable source. She twisted around, searching, and soon discovered that the window was now cracked open. _How in the hell… that was not open before!_

"I will ask you one last time, and I promise you it will be the last time, my dear Samantha. Tell me all you remember about the nights of February the second, two thousand and fourteen and fifteen."

She swallowed hard, her eyes watering as the cold breeze sifted through her hair.

"I will not ask you again, Samantha."

The cold felt like snow piling up around her. She was trapped in a never ending avalanche.

Opening her mouth, she began to speak.


	15. I'm Fine

**Sam**

 _"You JERKS!" Beth spat. Whirling around, she sped into the uninviting woods, calling her sister's name desperately._

 _Sam stared after her friend in shock, watching as Beth's bright fuchsia jacket quickly melted into the darkness._

 _Mike shifted uncertainly next to her. "So… should we go after her?" he asked, frowning and glancing over the others._

 _Sam turned on him, scowling. "You know, I kinda think you're the last person she wants to see right now, Mike." She continued to glare over at the others, particularly Jess and Emily. "You guys can really be a bunch of goddamn assholes, can't you?"_

 _Storming back inside, she went right to her coat, which was hung up by the front door. Yanking her arms through it, she dug through the front closet for a flashlight, any flashlight._

 _As she marched back through the kitchen, she barely noticed Josh and Chris, both blackout drunk with various bottles strewn around them on the counter. Shaking her head slowly, Sam ran out into the cold._

 _Everyone else was still standing dumbfounded, and Sam scoffed as she stomped past them, snow crunching under her feet. "Go back inside, you don't wanna catch a cold," she told them scornfully. Flipping on the flashlight, she entered the snowy forest._

 _It didn't take long for the cold to sink through her red sweater, which now didn't seem as thick and cuddly as before. Groaning, Sam zipped up her coat the rest of the way and pushed on._

 _Fortunately, she was able to locate the path the twins had taken, as it was the only place where the smooth blanket of snow was disturbed and undergrowth was crushed or broken. Using the flashlight's fuzzy beam as a guide, Sam leaped off a steep ledge and landed with a grunt._

 _The blizzard began to pick up, and Sam cringed as freezing ice crystals battered her face. The feeling was comparable to having countless tiny needles continuously jab at her cheeks._

 _"Hannah! Beth!" she kept screaming, over and over again. As she pushed forward, she reluctantly began to acknowledge the growing feeling of dread within her._

 _No— she wouldn't believe it. They had to be out here somewhere._ Alive _._

 _"Sam?"_

 _Despite the unfavorable situation she was in, Sam let a wide smile form on her face as her eyes landed on Hannah and Beth._

 _It was Hannah who had said her name, and Sam was almost giddy with relief as she stumbled up to them. Her best friend was now the one wearing the fuchsia jacket, and in the hazy light provided by her flashlight, Sam could see the dark streaks on her face left by tears._

 _"I'm so glad you guys are okay," she yelled over the howling wind. Beth was shivering like crazy, tugging at her beanie so it would better cover her head._

 _"Here, just take my jacket," Sam insisted, sliding off her coat and shoving it at Beth despite her weak protests. "And you take the flashlight," she added, dropping it in Hannah's hands before pulling out her phone and turning on its light._

 _All of a sudden, a piercing screech sounded somewhere alarmingly nearby. "What the hell was that?" Hannah whimpered, huddling closer to the other girls._

 _"I don't know, but we better run!" Sam said. A shudder rippled down her spine as the cold bit through her sweater._

 _Blindly Beth and Hannah began to run the opposite way, but Sam immediately grabbed them and ushered them back the way she'd come. "But wh—" Beth started._

 _"Follow me, I'm pretty sure I know the way back," Sam called. Another nonhuman shriek cut off her last couple words, leaving Beth and Hannah confused. The blonde didn't give them much choice, however, as she grabbed an arm of each sister and led them back through the terrifying shadows._

 _It took one more scream to get the girls to run faster, their feet slamming over the dirty snow and snapping twigs. Sam stayed in the lead the entire time, repeatedly checking behind her to ensure that Beth and Hannah still followed._

 _After several minutes of Olympic marathon sprinting, the traumatized trio arrived back at the side doors of the lodge._

 _Wild terror swam through Sam's veins, freezing over her blood. She had no clue what was out there shrieking, and she wasn't willing to wait around and find out. Throwing herself against a door, she banged her fists against the glass, Hannah and Beth copying her._

 _"Let us in! Please, oh God, let us—"_

 _Ashley appeared on the other side, and seconds later the doors swung open. Sam, Hannah, and Beth nearly tripped over each other getting inside while Ash hastily locked the doors behind them. "What the heck happened to you guys?" Mike said, standing up from where he'd been perched on the couch. Emily and Jess were sitting on the other sofa, looking mortified._

 _Sam took time to catch her breath, as did Hannah and Beth. During their gallop back through the woods, her hair had been shaken loose from its bun and now fell over her shivering shoulders. She hadn't realized it at the time, but during their fear-fueled run back to the lodge, half-frozen tears had spilled from her eyes and smudged her mascara to give her the appearance of a raccoon._

 _Hannah and Beth looked just as terrified, the former's eyes still wet from the emotional roller coaster of the past fifteen minutes._

 _"Guys?" Ashley asked. She stood timidly behind where Em and Jess were sitting on the couch, looking remorseful as ever._

 _"There was…" Sam panted. "… some kind of thing out there, no idea what it was."_

 _"It wouldn't stop screaming," Beth added, teeth gritted as she slowly began to unzip Sam's coat and take it off._

 _Matt emerged from the kitchen, balancing three steaming mugs of cocoa in his hands. "Here," he urged, offering one to each of them. Taking a long look at Sam, he continued gently, "There's no milk in them, for those of us who are vegan." Sam chose the purple mug, muttering a barely audible thanks. Pressing the mug to her lips, she eagerly tilted it back and relaxed as the warm, chocolatey liquid slid down her throat, warming her up instantly._

 _"A scream? What, so some guy was getting murdered out there?" Mike said. His rather flippant question betrayed the very serious frown on his face._

 _"No," Sam replied sharply. "That was definitely not a human scream. It was something else…"_

 _When she trailed off, a suffocating silence fell heavy on them like a ton of bricks. Mike had sat back down, oddly keeping a distance from Emily. Jess was hunched forward, staring at the floor and refusing to look at the twins. Matt was dead silent, chewing on his lip. It was Ashley who cut off everyone's hushed brooding, stepping forward and looking Hannah in the eyes._

 _"Han… I'm so sorry about everything… none of us thought it would come to this…"_

 _Hannah frowned, furrowing her brows and only sending a brief side glance in Ashley's direction._

 _Beth moved to stand beside her sister, a sleeve of Sam's jacket still clenched in her fist and dragging on the rug. "Yeah, I don't think that prank was really worth scaring us half to_ death _."_

 _Sam rested against the arm of a chair, rolling the mug between her hands to warm them up. She heard a loud sigh and observed Emily as she got up and placed her hands on her hips._

 _"Look, Hannah," she said, walking over to stand in front of her. When Beth shot her a look, she added more quietly, "Beth… Ashley is right. We didn't consider the possibility of you randomly running out into the forest at, what, two in the morning—"_

 _Beth opened her mouth to argue, but to everyone's shock, Hannah beat her to it. Scowling coldly at Emily, she yelled, "'Randomly?' Really? Was it really so 'random' of me to run away when I'd just been embarrassed like— like never before? You guys_ humiliated _me, all for the sake of a stupid fucking prank. Clearly you 'didn't consider' the fact that you would be hurting my feelings and making me feel so… so_ dumb _. An idiot— that's_ clearly _all I am to you." Hannah suddenly spun around to face Sam, disregarding all of the gaping faces around her. "And you, Sam… you were the last person I would've expected to contribute to this…"_

 _"Woah, woah, woah," Jess interrupted as Hannah hesitated. The blonde got up, keeping her eyes downcast until she was beside Emily. "Sam had nothing to do with the prank, Han. In fact, she disappeared right as we got into our places…"_

 _Hannah's eyes widened. "… what?"_

 _"… I think she was trying to find you and stop it from happening," Jess went on, tugging at one of her pigtails and grimacing. "The prank was completely my brainchild, alright— all of it. Em, Mike, and the others just went along with it. W- we didn't realize how much it would hurt you, and trust me, I regret it so—"_

 _"Look," Hannah said, speaking in an ominously low voice. "You guys are_ not _the people I'd like to speak to right now. I'd rather just be_ alone _for a while."_

 _She turned and jogged up the stairs, bringing her hot chocolate with her. A few seconds later they heard the door to her room slam shut._

 _"Shit…" Matt whispered. His guilt-ridden eyes landed on Beth and Sam. "What the hell happened to you three out there?"_

 _Beth swallowed the last sip of her drink and shook her head in apparent awe. "That screaming was what really got to me… I think she's just ridiculously embarrassed." She fixed another glare on them. "I doubt there's much you could do to help, so I suggest we all hit the hay and wait until morning and Josh finds out." She smirked, heading into the kitchen to drop off her empty mug. "And our brother will kick your sorry asses into the next century, so sleep tight and prepare yourselves!"_

 _Sam exhaled softly, entering the kitchen behind her. Beth was quietly washing her mug, squirting a drop of dish liquid into it and holding it under the water. Her eyes stayed focused on it as it filled up and bubbles tumbled over the edge._

 _"Hey," she muttered, holding out her free hand to take Sam's mug._

 _"Thanks," Sam said, handing it over. Once again her eyes settled on Josh and Chris, both passed out and drooling on the counter like the couple of sad sacks they were._

 _Beth noticed her staring and chuckled. "I'm holding out hope Josh won't be too hungover to do some ass-kicking later."_

 _"Yeah…" Sam laughed, gripping the counter. Josh's hair was a mess, and truly looked like a bird's nest of twigs and feathers. She reminded herself to tease him about getting it trimmed already. His eyes were barely closed, and while Chris was snoring a little, his breathing was completely silent, his chest rising and falling softly with each breath. Watching him breathe put Sam at ease, and nearly lulled her into sleep right alongside them. She was startled out of her trance by Beth, who had already finished drying the mugs and putting them away._

 _"Come on now," she whispered, steering Sam back out into the great room. "Save some of your eyes for the rest of us." A subtle blush heated Sam's cheeks in response, and she turned her head away so Beth wouldn't see._

 _By then everyone else had crept up to bed. After saying goodnight to Beth, Sam lingered out in the hallway for a moment. She debated talking to Hannah for a minute or two, and eventually decided it would be the good thing to do._

 _Taking a few more steps, Sam arrived at Hannah's door and softly knocked on it. "Han?" she murmured into the crack in the door. There was a sliver of light leaking out of it, so she knew her best friend was still up. "It's—"_

 _"Sam. Come in."_

 _Relieved that Hannah was willing to speak with her, Sam opened the door a little more, slid in, and then promptly shut it. She found the dark-haired girl curled up against the headboard of her bed, furiously writing something into a book. Upon Sam's entrance, however, she shut it and stuffed it under a blanket._

 _"Your hair…" Hannah began, scanning over Sam for the first time since they'd returned._

 _"What, what about it?" Sam said, her fingers immediately going to her head, where they soon got entangled in messy locks. "Oh, I see. It's a mess," she said after a moment. She gazed at Hannah playfully, almost as if to challenge her to make another comment._

 _"Here, I've got a ponytail holder," Hannah said, unable to hide her smirk as she opened her nightstand drawer, pulled one out, and tossed it to her friend._

 _Sam grinned as she caught it and right away tended to her frizzy hair. "Thanks, hon, you're a lifesaver."_

 _It took Sam a good couple minutes to get her hair under control— with a sigh, she reminded herself that was why she always kept it tied back in the first place— and it was only when Sam had sat down on the bed next to Hannah that the latter mumbled, "I'm sorry."_

 _"Sorry?"_

 _"Y'know, for accusing you of going along with the prank. I didn't even realize you were trying to prevent it."_

 _Sam slid her arm around Hannah's shoulders, giving them a squeeze. "Don't sweat it. I wish I'd gotten to you faster, then none of this would have ever happened."_

 _Hannah twisted her neck slightly, looking at Sam straight-on. "Sam… you saved Beth and I's lives."_

 _"Oh, please," Sam said humbly, shrugging. "You two would've done the same thing for me."_

 _Hannah's gaze shifted to her lap, and Sam saw her hands twitch nervously, playing with a corner of the blanket. "I saw something out there," she whispered abruptly._

 _Sam stiffened, her bashful smile faltering. "You… what?"_

 _"I— I saw it twice, right before Beth found me and then as we were running back…" Hannah explained, tears reforming in her eyes. "Through the trees, there was this— this_ thing _with long limbs and sharp teeth!"_

 _She didn't even have to suggest it for Sam to realize. "That's what was chasing us. That's what was screaming."_

 _Hannah didn't answer right away, instead choosing to glance out the window. A fresh wave of fear made Sam shudder. What if they had taken one wrong step, and ended up in the waiting claws of that creature? What if she hadn't even chased after Hannah and Beth… they were going to run a completely different way until Sam turned them around._

 _This night, while not pleasant, still could have been so much worse._

 _The next morning, Josh was livid as expected, his temper worsened by the extreme headache making his head pound nonstop._

 _He appeared to be in disbelief at first, but once he fully came to, he declared the getaway a bust, cutting it short and calling the bus service to pick them up two days early._

 _No one really was complaining, however. Last night had really gotten under their skin, especially Hannah's. Sam wished she could do more to comfort her friend and make her forget the abominable face she'd seen in the woods._

 _It did take a few months, but Josh learned to forgive everyone for the prank— or so it seemed. When he told Sam in June that he'd dropped out of college, she was surprised and, admittedly, somewhat disappointed. She hadn't known it then, but he ditched his future, his education, to plan the ultimate revenge prank. The night they would never forget, no matter how hard they tried._

 _So when he invited them back up to the mountain exactly a year after Hannah's sighting, Sam was skeptical to say the least, though she kept it to herself._

 _After riding up in the cable car with Chris, she and everyone else except Mike, Em, and Jess were stuck waiting outside the lodge while Chris and Josh found a way in._

 _The second they got inside, Beth announced that she had an essay to work on, and that she'd rather complete it now so she could enjoy the rest of the weekend later. Disappearing into her room, Sam didn't see Beth again until much later._

 _After a hissy fit between Jess and Em, Josh suggested Mike and Jess head out to the guest cabin, so off they went. Matt and Em departed as well, armed with her claim that he'd forgotten one of her bags further down the mountain._

 _Hannah, Chris, and Ash went to find an Ouija board. Sam, finding the mere thought of using one of those spirit boards in a creepy old lodge unsettling, chose to take a bath, as she hadn't had time to shower that morning._

 _She found there was no hot water, however, and she and Josh headed down to the basement where they fired up the boiler. Sam recalled how sweet he had been to her, how he told her he was so glad she in particular was back…_

 _And later, she wondered, was it all a lie? Was that his lack of meds talking? Now of course Sam knew how much he was attracted to her, meds or no meds, but back then she felt so insecure after finding out the truth about him._

 _After Chris, who apparently was in the mood to be a big asshole, scared them shitless with a monk getup, Sam gladly took some time to herself and rested in the bath for a while._

 _In fact, she kind of lost track of time. It was a few hours later when she was startled by the door to the bathroom shutting and killing the candle flames._

 _As it turned out, Sam had missed a lot during her bath. After the Ouija board "spazzed out" on Ash, Chris, Josh, and Hannah, Josh freaked and stormed out, inconsolable even to his sister. Hannah, Ash, and Chris began to explore the library after the Ouija board had begun to spell it out, and ended up finding many terrifying clues of the presence of a psycho in the lodge._

 _Not even ten minutes later, Chris and Hannah found themselves in a life or death situation. They had been knocked out by the psycho, and came to on one side of an unclimbable fence, the opposite side of which contained Ashley and Josh, both tied up and at the mercy of a sawblade._

 _"Ashley… I don't know what to do…"_

 _"Help me, you can't let me die!"_

 _"Chris, he's my_ brother _!"_

 _Even to this day Sam wasn't sure which way Chris or Hannah pulled the lever— understandably, neither liked to discuss that moment— but Josh ended up being the one sawed in half._

 _During all of this, Mike and Jess as well Matt and Emily were off doing their own things. The first pair ended up separated for most of the night when Jess was viciously pulled through a window and dragged to the mines, where she then fell down an elevator shaft. Doctors had declared it a God-given miracle she was still alive and only narrowly avoided the taint of frostbite._

 _While trying to get to his girlfriend, Mike explored the abandoned sanatorium, and discovered the wendigos. It soon became evident that the police, who had combed through the area last year after Hannah's reported sighting of a monster, did not look hard enough._

 _Matt and Emily became separated as well, when a wendigo cleverly slashed the supports to the radio tower where they were trying to call for help. Matt fell down into the mines and wandered for hours until he met the badly injured Jessica and the two escaped the mines at dawn together. Emily explored the mines for a long while as well, discovering gruesome clues to the deaths and cannibalism of the miners in 1952, and their subsequent transfer to the sanatorium, where they turned into wendigos and killed most of the hospital's workers._

 _Sam was left to meander around the lodge clad in nothing but a white towel. It was uncomfortable to say the least, and she was beyond pissed that her clothes had been taken._

 _The moment she finally realized that something was really wrong, however, was when she stumbled into the theater._

 _"Hello, Samantha."_

 _A video of herself climbing out of the bathtub just a few minutes previously was projected onto the screen._

 _"A beautiful bathing bird…"_

 _Then the screen switched to Josh, being torn apart mercilessly by an enormous sawblade. Sam remembered the pain that stabbed into her at that moment, seeing him "killed." All of her daydreams about him, glimmers of hope for their future, were ripped into shreds. Sam was reduced to a writhing, dry heaving mess on the floor as a countdown commenced, and the psycho burst into the room._

 _Sam took off running for her life, still upset but aware there was no time to grieve right then._

 _The psycho chased her for a while, and he only got her when he walked in on her snooping in his workshop. That was when Sam learned the full history of Josh's medical treatment. She had been the only friend of his besides Chris and his sisters to know about his schizophrenia diagnosis when he was eleven years old— after the incident in 2014, many times Josh would go into fits, completely under the impression that his sisters were dead._

 _He had seemed to be controlling it with meds, but after reading those papers, Sam wasn't so sure. He had jumped from doctor to doctor, medicine to medicine…_

 _The psycho caught Sam, knocking her out with gas. She awoke later and found Mike calling her name desperately through a grate. He helped her break out of her ties, and she changed into a more suitable outfit for battling killer psychos._

 _As the night wore on, things only worsened. Josh was revealed as the psycho, claiming that he'd perfectly executed a revenge prank in honor of his sisters' near-deaths the year before. Sam's heart broke; she'd never hated someone more in her life. How could he have perfectly created the illusion that he was fine? He had broken his promise to her. He stopped taking his meds a few months ago, and ignored calls and texts from his doctor. He'd made the decision to traumatize them all with a damaged mind._

 _Josh was dragged to a shed by Mike and Chris, but when Mike left his post, the vulnerable Josh was dragged away by a wendigo._

 _Sam didn't see him again until after they knew about the wendigos, when the stranger who helped save their lives was decapitated in front of Chris. Sam and Mike made their way down to the mines, crawling through slimy water to find him, hallucinating to the point of hysteria._

 _"I don't take orders from you! … You can't tell me what to do…"_

 _Sam wasn't sure what she had been thinking when she decided to return to the lodge and rely on Mike to bring back Josh safely. She regretted every step she took to climb out and run back through the woods. She shouldn't have left them._

 _A wendigo— whether it was the same one that had dragged him away earlier, nobody knew— captured Josh and took him to its lair._

 _When Mike told Sam he was gone, it was just another blow to her ridiculously sore heart. Knowing that Josh was either long gone or being terrorized by that monster while already being terrorized by his own hallucinations just twisted the knife in her gut._

 _"That's an awful way to go…"_

 _Beth had fallen asleep while writing her essay, and it was she who helped Sam and Mike with their master plan to kill off the wendigos that had broken into the lodge._

 _That gas leak was their key to getting out alive. Sam was grateful that Beth, who had no clue what was going on, asked no questions and simply went along with what she and Mike insisted she do._

 _One by one, Hannah, Chris, Emily, Ashley, then Mike, made it out. Sam remembered the desperate look Beth gave her seconds before she ran out._

 _"You can do this," she whispered, disappearing into the snowy night._

 _The wendigos, who were focused on the movement by the open door, were caught off guard as Sam struggled forward, her heart thumping almost too hard for her to function. Mike had broken the light bulb, and Beth had left the door wide open for her escape._

 _Running at full speed, Sam heard the furious screeches behind her as she flipped the switch and was launched forward, the heat from the fireball currently eating up the lodge barely grazing her skin as she landed in a pile of snow among the others._

 _During the police interviews, Sam couldn't stop shivering._

 _"You have to go to the mines…"_

 _"Why is that, Samantha?"_

 _"I- I've seen what's down there, and I'd give anything to unsee it. But… you have to rescue my friend…"_

 _"Your friend?"_

 _"Josh…"_

 _A few days later they found him down in the mines, starving but alive. One of the rescuers was killed by a wendigo, and after that the Blackwood town police didn't want anything to do with the case on their mountain._

 _Sam didn't see Josh for six years after that. When she got the call while in the hospital that he was alive— not exactly well but still alive— she wondered if she should go see him._

 _But she didn't._

 _"I said I'm_ fine _."_

* * *

 **Yeeeeah so can you tell I like writing in Sam's POV? I just wanted to use this chapter to completely explain how the nights on the mountain played out with Hannah and Beth alive and Josh being rescued before he could turn. I hope this clarified everything, and thanks for the support! Until next time.**


	16. Witness

**Chris**

When Chris roused again, it was the next morning. Blindingly bright sunlight sliced through the glass of the tiny window in his room.

Groaning, Chris lifted an arm to scratch his neck. Then he realized something; he could lift his arm!

Sweet relief bombarded him as he stood up from that creaky old chair. Someone must've untied his ropes overnight!

"Don't get so comfortable yet, Christopher."

Thus concluded his short moment of joy. Clenching his hands into sweaty fists, he ran at the door, only half-heartedly jiggling the knob because he knew it'd be no use.

But the door was unlocked. He stood gaping as it swung open, revealing a rather drafty hallway.

The voice boomed again, and finally Chris spotted the source of it. Gray was strolling casually down the carpeted corridor, his eyebrows raised as he grinned manically. "You wouldn't discuss any details about the mountain, Christopher. Why's that?"

Chris snorted, stepping out into the hall. "Because I've already told you all I need to know. Now if you'd please let me leave, I gotta be back in San Fran and my plane leaves in…" He stopped short, patting the pockets of his scuffed-up jeans. They were all completely, utterly empty. "Where's my phone…?" he hissed.

"Oh, you mean this little thing here?" Gray said, whipping the device out of his pocket. Chris chewed on the inside of his cheek nervously as the cop rubbed grimy fingerprints onto the screen of his precious Samsung.

"H- hey, that's not cool…" Chris stammered, clinging to the door frame of his room. He had a bad feeling that something was gonna happen if he tried to retrieve it from him.

Gray stopped about a yard away from Chris, standing between two closed doors and clicking his tongue as he leered at the phone in his hands. "Fascinating, isn't it, the technology we have nowadays. A dear possession, capable of performing incredible actions in a matter of milliseconds, and with an exceedingly high price tag attached. A dear possession capable of shielding its owner from all else, shutting them out of the real world. A dear possession, might I add, that goes beyond the importance of not-so-cheap diamond rings."

Chris's face twitched; he wouldn't give Gray the twisted pleasure of seeing the sheer horror he felt as the realization hit him: Ash's ring was gone from his pockets as well.

Laughing, Gray whipped the classic velvet box out of his other pocket. "Ah, yes, here it is. Funny how you thought first of your phone, however. You might as well marry that thing, Christopher, since clearly you have your priorities in order."

"No!" Chris grumbled, taking one step out into the hallway. A freezing breeze slithered by from an open window at the end of the hall, nibbling Chris's skin with teeth made of ice. "My girlfriend always comes first." Taking a deep breath, he moved closer to Gray. "Gimme the ring."

"But is that really what you want, Christopher?" Gray taunted, glancing with feigned interest at the two objects in his hands. "I mean, let's face it: you don't deserve sweet, lovely Ashley. Remember when you pointed a gun at that pretty face of hers?"

Chris was grinding his teeth. "I never pointed a gun at her," he said quietly. "I pointed it at myself. I'd never kill her just to save my own life."

"Hmm. Interesting. So you're telling me that you would shoot yourself for a girl who, at the time, you'd never even held hands with, let alone kissed? A girl who, upon your possible decision to point the gun at her and pull the trigger, would likely throw you to the wolves?"

Chris squinted at him, confused. "W- what the hell are you talking about?"

Gray rolled his eyes. "Well, come _on_. If somebody decided to send your brains splattering out instead of theirs, do you really think you'd save them yourself given the opportunity?"

"What…"

"Kind, adorable little Ashley opened the door to let you in when you were chased by a wendigo. Humor me, Christopher, and think for a moment: would she have opened that door for you if you'd pointed the gun at her?"

Chris shrugged, sighing. "I dunno. I don't really think it matters if I'm being honest here, pal."

"Oh, but it does matter. Everything matters, Christopher. Your choices can determine your fate. A single flutter from the wing of a butterfly can lead to a deadly hurricane in the future—"

"I don't see how—"

"The _butterfly_ effect, Christopher! That doesn't ring a bell at all?" Gray seethed, leaning toward Chris with bulging eyes.

" _No,_ it doesn't!" Chris lied, his voice rising a few notches like Gray's. "Now get out of my face and tell me where Ashley is."

He did remember the butterfly effect, though. He recalled the exact moment those words left his lips. He'd been sitting with Sam in the cable car on that night six years ago, his breath visibly clouding around his face as he spoke.

 _"Boom! Butterfly effect._ "

When Gray didn't respond right away, Chris demanded it again, his voice warping halfway through as raw fear tore through him. "Where… i- is… where is she?"

The corrupted cop appeared to compose himself once more. Chris watched as his hands clenched the two objects, the bones of his knuckles glaring white through his thin, pasty skin. Then, to his delight, Gray tossed his phone and then the ring back to him, one by one.

Chris caught his phone with ease, and relaxed slightly as its familiar rectangular shape instantly melded with his hand. He had a bit more trouble with the ring, barely catching the cherished box in his left hand as it came sailing his way right after.

"Such _impressive_ eye-hand coordination for someone like you," Gray sneered.

Chris ignored the insult; he'd heard plenty of statements like it before, mostly in middle and high school gym— or, as he preferred to call it, climbing class. It seemed like all they ever did in that class was climb the damn rope.

He'd always been lucky enough to have Josh in that class with him, except for when they didn't in sophomore year. Nearly every day Josh had gotten a bathroom pass and then sneaked into the locker room for a few minutes during Chris's class to give him a pep talk. These talks usually happened after Chris had been hit in the face with a ball, or tripped over the untied shoelace of his sneaker. Sam had been in that class with him that year, though she couldn't exactly hide and cry with him in the boys' locker room.

Josh. Sam. _Ashley_. Where the hell was this psycho keeping them and the others?

Chris couldn't let his thoughts wander too far, however, and quickly reeled them back in as he realized Gray walking away from him. Sliding his phone and the ring back in his pockets, he quickly caught up to Gray until he was just a few steps behind him. "Hey. I asked you a question," he snapped.

The older man didn't even peer over his shoulder. Opening a door at the end of the hall, he inhaled loudly enough for people in Oklahoma to hear. "The only answer I can give you, Christopher, is this: find them yourself. Let's see if you're still so stubborn and resilient after this."

He entered the room, slamming the door behind him. Chris wasn't even able to think about coming through after him, for not even a second later he heard the click of a lock.

Chris stumbled back a little, gazing at his surroundings. All he could see was a long hallway filled with doors and doors. So, so many closed doors— but one of them was bound to be the escape.

There was no harm in trying. Chris prepared himself, walking up to a door and twisting the knob.

 **Jess**

The moment she cracked open the door, a shiver-inducing blast of cold air hit her like a solid wall.

Jess looked around, flabbergasted. She had assumed she was still in the dusty old hotel, but now it seemed as if she'd stepped into a damp underground cave. The stone floor was slick under her feet, and uneven stalactites reached down from the ceiling like pointed fingers. A never-ending dripping sound echoed from somewhere in the distance, ringing in her ears.

Just being here put her on edge. It gave her severe flashbacks to wandering alone in the Blackwood mines before she found Matt. Being as severely injured as she was, she hadn't gotten very far on her own, but still found plenty of things to explore as she stumbled by.

She recalled the early morning of February 3rd six years ago, when she and Matt emerged from the dank, musty confinement of the mines.

After passing out from the pain again, Matt was forced to carry her to the first responders on the helicopter; she nearly forgot to thank him profusely later. But her biggest worry hadn't been her wellbeing, as she drifted in and out of consciousness. It was Mike.

 _"Mike… he came for me. He did. Where is he? D- did he make it?"_

They had refused to tell her.

 _"Please, you have to tell me something," she mumbled weakly as they escorted her out of the station and straight into an ambulance. Why they had decided to question them immediately and put medical treatment as second priority was beyond her._

 _She knew she had a concussion— her brain felt like it was bobbing around in her skull. She'd gotten one a year previously after she fell during cheerleading practice. After that scare, she'd damn near called it quits, but her accident was enough to win her the title of homecoming queen. Sometimes she wondered if she even deserved it._

 _Along with all of the cuts and gashes on her face, chest, and shoulders, which she was praying wouldn't scar too badly if at all, there was an insistent, stabbing discomfort in her chest. God only knew what that was._

 _"Please," she begged again, but the doors of the ambulance shut in her face, and they lowered her back onto a bed. She stared desperately from one paramedic to the other, wondering if telepathic communication was a real thing. After the other shit that happened to her that night, it very well could be._

 _"My boyfriend, Michael Munroe—"_

 _"Miss, you need to stay calm. You'll feel a lot better sooner if you don't move," the medic told her as he moved to clean her bodily wounds._

 _It didn't take long at all for them to arrive at the hospital, as she waned in and out of wakefulness. She didn't see any of her friends for the longest time. As far as she knew, her and Matt were the only ones alive._

 _It was nearly three days later when she was able to lay her eyes on Mike again. Her hair had long been taken out of the Dutch braids and now hung limply down past her chest. That grimy green jacket was finally off her shoulders, a fresh hospital gown on instead. It wasn't exactly the most stylish thing Jess had ever worn, but she had little reason to care about how she looked right then._

 _Her parents had arrived as soon as they could, although at the moment they weren't with her, having gone to get food._

 _Jess was sitting idly in her bed, gazing at the IV inserted into her arm. It had been an adventure getting that needle in— the nurse had to stab her three different times before she finally found a suitable vein. Not even a half hour later, Jess met sweet relief as the pain medication was pumped into her body._

 _As rejuvenating as it was to have the pain of her throbbing head and broken ribs numbed, there was nothing to stop the worry that pricked at her heart._

He's gotta be gone, _she thought to herself, picking out dirt from under her fingernails._ They would have told me something by now…

 _"I'm going to see her whether you like it or not!"_

 _Joy blossomed within her. It was his voice, right out in the hallway!_

 _"212. This is her room, right?" The knob jiggled, and the door swung open._

 _Standing in the doorway was Mike. Strong, brave, weak-in-the-knees attractive Mike. Aside from a few bruises and cuts, and a faded black eye, he appeared to have emerged relatively unscathed physically._

 _His broad-shouldered frame nearly filled the entire doorway. It was only when he stepped forward a little that Jess spotted his nurse, who sighed and rolled his IV machine away._

 _Jess was so ecstatic to see him, ecstatic to see that he was living and breathing, that she wasn't quite able to conjure up something to say at first. She settled on a playful remark, something to make it seem as if they hadn't just narrowly escaped the most horrific night of their lives._

 _"I hope you didn't rip that IV out of your arm just to see me," she teased, a ghost of a smile materializing on her lips._

 _"Nah," Mike said, clearing his throat. She noticed his hands were behind his back. He, too, was wearing a hospital gown, but also had found himself a pair of plaid pajama pants to better cover himself. His hair was disheveled, though that added to his ungodly level of attractiveness right then. Uneven stubble traced his jawline, emphasizing the emotional scars on his face. "I, uh… I got these for you," he went on, moving the rest of the way to her bedside._

 _He thrust forward his hands, revealing a gorgeous bouquet of creamy white lilies. She gasped, raising a sore arm to take them from him. "Thank you," she whispered. "Where did you find these?"_

 _"Oh, I… 'discovered' them in the gift shop," Mike explained. His brown eyes gleamed as he gazed at her. "Jesus, it's so good to see you again Jess, I..."_

 _"I wasn't sure you made it out of there," she whispered, clutching the flowers in her free hand. "They wouldn't tell me anything. I thought it was just me and Matt…"_

 _"Well, I'm okay," Mike murmured, sitting down in the chair next to her bed. "And so is everyone else."_

 _"Everyone?" she demanded in shock. "Chris? Sam? Ash? Em? Hannah and Beth?" At each name, he nodded. Jess found herself hesitating before speaking the final name. "Josh…?"_

 _Mike chewed on his lip. "They're… they're looking for him. I dunno if he's okay… a wendigo dragged him away and…" He trailed off, unable to finish and instead choosing to rest his left hand on her arm._

 _She glanced down at it, and found that his fingers were completely bandaged up. She didn't want to think about Josh, so she changed the subject. "What happened to your…"_

 _Mike didn't even spare a glance toward his bandages. "In the sanatorium. Two of my fingers got caught in a bear trap, because I was being a dumbass. I… I had to amputate them."_

 _Her eyes expanded to twice their normal size. "With what?"_

 _"A machete. And not a sterile one, might I add. The doctors say it's a miracle the wound didn't get infected." He leaned in toward her, his eyes raking hungrily over her face._

 _She laughed glumly, shifting the bouquet aside so she could lean closer to him as well. "The doctors say it's a miracle I'm alive," she whispered. A second later he closed the inch of space between them and joined his lips with hers. It wasn't the most passionate of kisses, but it was enough to send the last bit of her pain ebbing away._

 _"Ahem."_

 _They both jerked backward, Jess gritting her teeth as the reality of where she was hit her once again like a ton of bricks. Standing in the doorway were her parents, balancing various containers and bags of food._

 _Face flushed red, Mike stood up abruptly, casting her one final sincere look before nodding to her parents and stepping around them to leave._

 _Jess couldn't help but blush as well. Her disgruntled parents— who were surprisingly still under the impression that their only daughter was a goodie two-shoes— sat down on either side of her bed and offered her food._

 _Jess moved her IV hand so it could rest on the lilies. "Um, maybe in a bit," she replied. She wasn't quite ready to wash the taste of him off her lips yet._

Jess was launched back into the present, disappointed to find that she was still in the cave. She assumed they must have injected her with some strong stuff— why else would she be in a "cave" in the middle of an old hotel?

She had no choice but to move forward, since the door she had used to enter was now consumed in darkness behind her.

She wanted nothing more than to be in Mike's arms again. He was the one who had given her a ride to every therapy session he could over the two years following that night. He was the one who visited her dorm room at college to bring her snacks for every binge-study night. He was the one who kept her warm each night, without fail, since they'd moved in together.

Jess wondered if she'd ever be able to tell him she was pregnant. They had never discussed the possibility of children until recently, when she stupidly decided to ask before tell. She, and surely he, had both considered that possibility as far off as that of marriage.

She already knew what her parents would say. They would be understanding, but their old-fashioned beliefs would soon shine through. They'd remind her how her older brothers both found perfect wives at their local church. How they got married and _then_ had children. How they both live in four bedroom houses in the suburbs near a safe city. How they both drive their minivans to and from their office jobs day after day.

As much as she willed herself not to, deep down Jess really wanted to have this baby. It wouldn't be the biggest inconvenience to ever confront her and Mike.

But what if he wasn't ready? She was pretty sure she knew what his thoughts on the subject of children were.

She pushed the thought out of her mind the second she heard a shriek. She couldn't tell where it had come from, but it was bone-chilling. Her feet began to move quickly, slipping over the wet floor.

She slid right into a wood beam, which promptly smacked her in the forehead. Wincing, Jess staggered back somewhat. When she was able to refocus her vision again, she was staring straight at herself.

But it wasn't herself right then, wearing leggings and a soft gray sweatshirt. It was herself from the Night of Hell, six years younger and clad in nothing but her bra and underwear.

"Holy fuck," Jess whispered. The image was projected so clearly in front of her, it was almost as if she was actually there.

Her younger self didn't appear to see her. She was screaming at the top of her lungs as a wicked creature pounced onto her like a cat onto a mouse.

Jess had never seen what dragged her through the snow that night, although it became apparent to her what it was once she had been informed of the monsters that terrorized her friends… _terrorized_ them, while she lay unconscious at the bottom of an elevator shaft.

The wendigo.

The awful thing fastened its crooked claws in the other Jessica's skin. Shrieking in her face, it took ahold of her lower jaw and proceeded to messily tear it away from the rest of her mouth. Blood spurted like a fountain as the life faded from her younger self. After one last resounding scream, the wendigo darted away, pulling Jess's horribly disfigured body along with it.

"Oh my God… oh my God… fuck, no…" she choked out. A mixture of morning sickness-related nausea and nausea from what she'd just witnessed resulted in her coughing up the contents of her stomach. She kept going until there was nothing left.

What the fuck did she just watch? That wasn't what happened on that night. She wouldn't be here, alive, if that was what had took place.

Jess sobbed, fear overtaking her body. She began to run blindly, her hands groping in the space in front of her for some method of escape. A few moments later, her fingers wrapped around a cold doorknob. Yanking it open, she threw herself into the freezing hallway beyond it and slammed the door on that crime scene.

She couldn't even begin to comprehend the horror she viewed back there. Her body folded back against the wall, and Jess collapsed into a trembling, shuddering mess.

For a few minutes she was alone, salty tears smearing mascara down her cheeks. It was only when she heard a door down the hall slam shut that she looked up.

There was Josh, looking like he'd just watched a murder— like he'd just seen what she had seen.

* * *

 **There are some messed up things going on... sorry, I knew I wouldn't be able to write an Until Dawn fic without at least some gore. Gray is really torturing these guys.**

 **So I just noticed that, according to the wiki, the last names of the other characters besides the Washingtons and Mike have been officially released. At first I didn't want to change my made-up surnames to the canon ones, but I've since warmed up to them and I've now transitioned over to the official ones.**

 **Anywaaaays thank you for the support! Love you guys.**


	17. Trust

**Josh**

"Josh?"

He jumped as he heard his name spoken softly. Spinning away from the door, his eyes landed on Jess, who was crumpled into a miserable heap against the far wall. "Jess?"

"Josh," she cried, rising to her feet and stumbling into his arms. She was only touching him for a few seconds, however, before she leaped back, fear etched on every inch of her pretty face. "Wait, wait… are you real or not?"

He took a deep breath, knowing he could ask her the same question. He also stepped back a bit, surveying her hunched, fear-driven posture and wide silvery eyes. Josh concluded that she couldn't be a part of the hallucinations. "Yes, I'm real," he answered her slowly.

"Okay," she mumbled, crossing her arms and shivering. "J- Josh, do you know what's going on? Because I just saw something back there that…"

Josh gazed at her soft face, and the smudged mascara under her eyes. She looked truly terrified, and he wondered how bad the scene she had watched was. His had been fairly morbid— after taking two steps, Josh had been plunged into icy water. His memory of that night on the mountain was about as clear as a fogged-up window, but he definitely remembered the chill that seeped into his bones from that water once before in his life— the pool in the mines.

He glimpsed himself and Mike, both six years younger, wading carefully through the toe-numbing depths. After a few moments, Mike was dragged into the murky water with a yell of surprise. While he was out of the way, a wendigo popped up in front of Josh.

Josh shuddered when he saw his younger self. Wearing the filthy overalls, he stood dazed in the water, cringing in pain from the gash in his forehead. There was also the stab wound in his shoulder from Ashley's scissors, back when she still didn't know who was behind that mask. The wound had crusted over, as Josh remembered, but split back open when he entered the water, causing it to leak more blood that soaked his shirt with scarlet.

The current Josh absently lifted his fingers and slid them under the neckline of his shirt, where they instinctively rested on the scar just under his collarbone. That wound had taken eons to heal after it got infected.

The wendigo took ahold of the other Josh, belting out an ear-splitting, unforgettable shriek. As Josh watched this scene from a safe corner, nearby where Mike had popped back up spluttering, he expected the wendigo to drag his younger self away, where he would remain trapped for a few days starving to death before getting rescued.

But that wasn't what happened.

As the younger Mike stared on in horror and undisguised fear, the wendigo wrapped its long claws on top of the other Josh's head while the terrified man clung to the creature's bony arms with trembling hands.

Releasing one final nonhuman scream, the wendigo proceeded to squeeze Josh's head hard until it exploded into tiny bits— crushed. Crushed like it was nothing more than a watermelon.

Josh choked on the musty air, turning so he could wretch and cough up bile into the water. "Fuck…" he whispered, watching as the wendigo grabbed his headless body and pulled it through the water into its lair.

"Josh!"

He was returned to the present by Jess, who had her hands on his tensed biceps. "Wha…?" he stammered, blinking rapidly to clear away the horrendous vision from his mind. As if he needed something else to haunt him at night.

"Josh, what is going on?" Jess demanded, peering at him desperately.

"What's going on," Josh began with as unperturbed a tone as he could muster, "what's going on is this jackass David Gray is making us see visions that aren't real."

"Visions?" she squeaked.

"Yes. Visions, hallucinations, whatever you want to call them," Josh explained, sticking his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans as he leaned against a closed door. "Trust me, I think it's safe to say I understand this more than anyone. Seeing or believing things that aren't real is a textbook symptom of schizophrenia."

Jess shook her head and huddled against the opposite wall like it was her security blanket. "So… he's torturing us into thinking different things happened on that night from hell?"

"Yeah, yeah, I guess," Josh said, his last few words trailing into a mutter as he thought. "I can't really think of a motive Gray might have for doing this to us other than obsession."

"Obsession with…"

"With our case. I'm sure he's read every tidbit of information on the internet about the Cree legend. I bet he wants to see the wendigo for himself, but because he's a coward he's decided to settle on vivid descriptions from us. And since—"

"— he's hooked onto our case, he's invented alternate realities to see how the wendigos maim their prey," Jess finished. When he nodded, a smile appeared on her face then quickly faded.

"Exactly," he said. "He's probably either injecting us with something that keeps us in hallucinations, or there's something in the air behind each of these doors that makes us see events that never happened."

After he finished, a short period of silence reigned over them. Josh was almost hoping Sam would emerge from one of the many doors. Part of his mind was always on her, and just picturing her smiling face in his mind made the butterflies in his stomach flutter. Yet the inexplicable nerves made him feel better— somewhere out there, Sam was alive, breathing, and maybe thinking about him too.

And besides, Josh thought as he briefly observed Jessica's worried lip-biting and uneasy, constantly darting eyes, he realized how much he admired and missed Sam's confidence. The way she could take charge and still remain as humble as possible astounded him. Her brave and selfless qualities were a big part of what put the hearts in his eyes when he looked at her.

Oh, and of course, she was amazingly gorgeous— but that was beyond the point.

"There's no way to get out of this, is there?" Jess finally piped up. Her fingers were entwined, playing absently with a ponytail holder.

Josh swung his gaze over the hallway one last time. There was no escape window or vent in sight; they had to choose a door. "Nope. We're gonna have to enter another room." He stared firmly at her timid face until she returned his look. "Let's stick together, alright?"

"Of course. I won't argue with that," she agreed, nimbly weaving her long hair into a Katniss Everdeen braid in less than a minute. Once she had it secured with the ponytail holder, she matched his solemn frown and sighed. "Ready?" she asked.

"Ready," he affirmed. Choosing a random door to their left, Josh twisted the knob and led the way inside.

Just like his first hallucination, the first few seconds were spent walking in complete darkness. Then a scene was gradually painted around them. Josh instantly recognized the tall timber posts in the great room of the now-extinct lodge. Freezing droplets of snow battered his and Jessica's faces, but he comforted himself with the knowledge that the numbness his body felt wasn't real. After all, he'd left the first hallucination with bone-dry clothes despite having "stood" in waist-deep water.

This part of that night— the plan executed by Mike and Sam— was unfamiliar to Josh and Jess, since they were both in the mines at that time. Josh had no clue what to expect, and it freaked him out a lot.

Mike and Sam exploded into the room from around the corner, their eyes wild with fear as their feet pounded over the creaky wood floor. Josh's heart thrummed as his gaze rested on Sam; he saw Jess stare with concern at Mike just the same.

He couldn't believe how beaten and battered Sam looked. Her eyes were sunken into her skull, her makeup smeared from the activity of the night. A few cuts and scrapes were sprinkled over her face, and her hair was a frizzy mess barely tamed by the bun she'd put it in hours earlier.

Mike didn't look much better; his left hand was bandaged up with bloody old gauze, and his cringe-worthy black eye was accompanied by a split lip and multiple cuts and gashes.

Out of nowhere, Beth appeared, racing down the stairs on light feet. "What the hell is going on?" she whisper-shouted, looking incredulously from Mike to Sam.

Mike's jaw dropped as he looked at her. "Beth? What the fuck… you're still here?"

She glared at him. "Uh, yes, I'm still here. What's happening?" She squinted in the chilly darkness, taking in her friends' dirty and bloody outfits. "You two look like you just ran through a battlefield…"

"Beth," Sam choked out, her eyes anxiously darting over her shoulder. "Listen to me. You have to be quiet and stay still, or else—"

She was cut off by yet another wendigo call. It echoed through the lodge, bouncing from wall to wall and causing Beth to trip, falling the rest of the way down the stairs.

"Shit, fuck, that hurt," she swore, climbing to her feet.

"Beth!" Sam whispered, hopelessness radiating off of her with each heavy breath. "Stay—"

Right then, three wendigos found their way into the great room. Josh squeezed his eyes shut, unable to look at their skeletal, disfigured faces. He couldn't bring himself to do it.

Besides, this scene didn't make sense. When Beth had told him the story later on, she'd mentioned that when she woke up and came back downstairs, Hannah, Chris, Ash, and Emily were in the corner by the open side door.

Here, they were nowhere to be seen.

Josh opened his eyes again just in time to see a wendigo kick off a wall, landing squarely on top of Beth. She didn't even have time to scream before it aimed a swipe at her neck, sending her head sailing across the room.

"Fuck," Mike muttered.

Josh felt sick. _This isn't real. This isn't real._ His sister was _alive_. This never happened on that night. Right?

Sam's body was wracked with sobs, but she clearly knew she had to pull herself together if she wanted to stay alive.

Mike recovered fairly quickly on the outside, glancing at Sam out of the corner of his eye. "Don't… move," he instructed her as the wendigos leaped around the room, snarling at each other periodically. "Don't fucking move a muscle."

Sam nodded, but Josh could see that it was very tough for her to control her grief. It had finally dawned on him that the others weren't in the room as well because they were probably dead.

Sam and Mike began to carry out their plan just the way Josh had been told they did by Beth; Sam moved from hiding place to hiding place, while Mike shattered the light bulb with his fist. All it would take was for Sam to flip the switch, and thanks to the gas leak created by the fighting wendigos, the lodge would erupt in flames.

Except Sam didn't flip the switch. It was impossible for her to do so, as suddenly she stumbled forward not even an inch. It was enough, however, for the wendigo to spot her. Screeching at a deafening volume, it reached out its ridiculously long arms, grabbing Sam's face with one hand and impaling her through the stomach with the other.

Josh fell to his knees the same instant Sam fell. He couldn't look away, and watched as the life faded from her eyes. Her blood spilled onto the floor, and the wendigo removed its arm from her abdomen, moving on to find other prey.

He really had found it difficult to believe how close his friends were to death on that night at first. But now, after seeing strong, fearless, beautiful Sam collapse with a hole right through her body, Josh really believed it.

This is what could have happened to her.

He felt Jessica's hand rest on his shoulder. "Sam…" Her voice was hoarse.

Warm, salty tears spilled from Josh's eyes. He refused to look at Sam's body.

Mike looked just as stricken at her death. He didn't hesitate in making his decision. He pulled a lighter out of the pocket of his grimy green jacket.

"No!" Jess cried.

Mike bolted forward, but his foot still got snagged onto the outstretched claws of a wendigo. As he got pulled in toward the bloodthirsty monster, he triumphantly raised up his lighter. "How's this feel, you fuck?" he yelled at the top of his lungs.

Flipping open the top of the lighter, he ignited the flame and not even a second later, the lodge burst into flames, and Mike and the wendigos were dead.

Josh and Jess saw the freed spirits wail as they dissolved into the frosty air, and then the scene disappeared. They were left to run about blindly, trying to discover a door, any door, to get away from the darkness.

At last Josh's clammy hands hit a weirdly warm brass doorknob, and he flung it open, ushering Jess through before following on her heels.

He yanked the door shut, shaking it a little in its frame to ensure it was most definitely closed all the way.

"Oh my God," Jess rasped. She sunk to the floor next to Josh. Both of them were panting heavily.

"Well, seeing three deaths was sure as hell worse than seeing one," Josh stated flatly. As he sat the rest of the way onto the thin carpet, he registered the hard poke of his phone in his back pocket.

He pulled it out, already knowing it was useless. There was no service in this stupid place, no way to contact the outside world. One thing his phone could still do, however, was tell Josh the time. "Ah, shit," he muttered as his eyes landed on the glowing numbers.

"What?" Jess said, sparing him a brief glance.

"Gotta take my meds," Josh told her. He dug the small bottle out of his pocket, twisted the cap, and shook out two white capsules into his palm. He could feel the heat of Jessica's eyes on him, so he added gruffly, "Helps control my schizophrenia, that lovely disorder of mine."

He popped the pills in his mouth, struggling somewhat to swallow them without water, but he managed. Abruptly Jess said, "So… it controls your hallucinations?"

Josh inhaled sharply as the realization hit him. "Holy shit. I wonder if these'll reduce the effect of these traumatizing visions?" He turned the bottle over in his hand, admiring it. "You woulda thought Gray would get rid of these."

Jess leaned forward, her eyes fixed on the bottle. "Josh… is their only purpose to stop, or like reduce, hallucinations?"

"Yeah…"

"Then maybe I could take one," she said, her eyes wide. She was still catching her breath.

Josh blinked down at the bottle. "I dunno. I mean, it wouldn't be the best or safest idea ever, but since when am I a guy to promote safety? Seeing the shitty situation we're in, you might as well pop a couple." He began to twist open the cap again. "Just make sure you're free of any heart problems or breathing problems, not pregnant, and not allergic—"

"Ummm, never mind," Jess mumbled, interrupting his memorized spiel. "Y- you're probably right. It wouldn't be safe."

Josh froze, peering at her through narrowed eyes. Her gaze was now fixed on the floor, her hands loosely clasped together. "Right," he replied suspiciously.

"What?" she snapped. "Why are you acting so doubtful? I just decided that it wouldn't be a good idea to take your pills. That's all."

He shook his head, his eyes rolling to the stucco ceiling. "I just said 'right,' Jess. If anyone here is acting weird, it's you."

She groaned, folding her arms in toward her abdomen.

"Jess…?" Josh said, his tone suddenly dripping with curiosity. "Do you have heart disease?"

"No."

"Asthma?"

"No…"

"Allergies?"

"I'm just allergic to bee stings. See, that's why I can't—"

Josh snorted. "They don't give a shit about bee stings. They mean allergies to medicines." He hesitated before prodding more. "Jess… are you preg—"

" _No_!" she yelled. Her hands flew up to her face so that her expression was hidden from him.

"Damn, Jess. You're still a bad liar six years later," Josh said, smirking despite their situation.

She groaned loudly. "Ugh! Well, you're still really good at reading people's minds six years later. It's really unfair and creepy, mind you."

Shifting his arm, he gave her a nudge in the side with his elbow. "Hey. Look at me," he urged. Jess lifted her head, blinking at him with watery eyes. "We're friends. Right?"

"I… I guess— yes…"

Josh swallowed a bemused chuckle. "I'm glad to hear how confident you are in our friendship," he teased.

Jess fixed a glare on him, swatting a blonde strand out of her face. "Hey. We've all just barged back into each other's lives after several years. It'll take time for us all to again become the BFFs we once were."

"Can't argue with that," Josh gave in. He looked away from her, sliding a thumbnail under a corner of the pill bottle's label. "So, if we're at least kind of friends, then that means you can trust me. 'Cause, shit, we've known each other for darn close to twelve years. And yes, you pranked Hannah, which almost ended up killing my sisters. But I've forgiven you. Even if you never forgive me for my prank, just know that I forgive you."

She sighed. "Thank you, Josh. I do forgive you… and we are friends."

"Really?"

"Really."

He stalled for a minute before blurting out, "So if we're friends, and you have at least a morsel of trust in me, then will you tell me who the father is?"

Jess sat up a little, staring at him like he had two heads. "Mike, of course. I'd never cheat on him, Josh… he's the only guy who really listens to me and loves me."

"Right, right. Well, congratulations!" Josh said. "So is he freaked the fuck out, or—"

"Josh…" She made a noise that was a cross between a giggle and a sob. "He doesn't even know yet. I just found out myself a few days ago. I was gonna go to a doctor and everything when we went back home, but seeing how we're stuck here…"

Josh hopped up to his feet suddenly. "We should get a move on then. So you can tell him."

Outside, the sun was setting on another day; how had time passed so quickly?

Frightened gray eyes glittered up at him in the dim light of the hallway. "Josh… I don't even know if I'm ready to have a baby at this point in my life…"

A partial smile broke apart his nonchalant expression. "Whatever you decide, I'll stand by you," he assured her. She began to stand up, and Josh swiftly offered his hand. "In the meantime, I now have two lives to protect…"

She brushed dust off her leggings. "Josh…"

"Or, at the very least, I have you to protect," he continued, treading carefully. Josh knew exactly what she would say if she were Sam.

" _I think I can fend for myself, Superman._ "

And he knew exactly what he would say in return.

" _I'm just watching out for you, Sammy. You never know what spoooooky things are out there._ "

But Jess didn't utter a single syllable, instead grinning anxiously at him.

"Alright, let's get a move on!" Josh exclaimed, his cheer suddenly diluted by fear as he wrapped his fingers around a cold doorknob. As he took the first step inside, he kept himself going with one thought and one thought only: the further they pushed on, the sooner it would all be over. And the sooner it was over, the sooner he could see Sam again.


	18. Sacrifice

**Ashley**

"This is so fucked up," Mike grunted. He was leaning against the wall, his hands on his knees and his eyes fixed on the ratty carpet under his feet.

"Agreed," Ashley said. To herself, she wondered why, of all the people in the group she could've ran into, it had to be Mike.

He was a nice guy, alright. But he was also too stoic and serious for Ashley's taste. She had seen him smile and laugh before, of course, but of all the guys Mike definitely had the weakest sense of humor. God, she missed Chris's jokes. The way his eyes sparkled when he smiled, the way his breath could fog up his glasses when she came close, and she could see her doubled reflection in the lenses.

Normally she wouldn't be this desperate to see him— after all, they'd been apart maybe a day at this point— but it was Mike's fault Ashley craved her boyfriend's touch again. He absolutely would not stop fretting over Jess.

"I just don't know why she's acting like this, ya know?"

"I wonder if I did something. I didn't cheat on her, I mean, I'd never do that…"

"Christ, if she's that pissed at me for leaving my toenail clippings in the sink or leaving the toilet seat up, I will have an aneurysm."

Ashley so badly wanted to tell him why Jess was behaving strangely. _It's not my place to tell,_ she constantly reminded herself.

After being through a few hellish rooms, or visions, or whatever the hell they were, with Mike, Ashley was just about fed up with everything.

On her own, she walked right into an utterly disturbing scene. She glimpsed herself bending down to open a latch. It took her a moment to recognize her younger self, from that night six years ago. She recalled how much she'd adored that outfit, and how everything, even the beanie, had to be thrown out, due to being too blood-stained— blood that she'd thought was Josh's, but was only a pig's.

As the younger Ashley lifted open the trapdoor, there was a moment of blissful silence. She was standing there, staring into the depths. Ashley wasn't quite sure why she had opened the hatch in the first place; the only thing she figured was that Jessica was down there, since she'd heard a desperate yell that sounded like her for a split second as the scene faded into view.

But then the peace was broken, as a wendigo exploded out from the shadowy depths with a triumphant screech. It rammed its talon-like fingers into Ashley's soft skin, ripping her head off her body. The action was accompanied by a sickening spray of blood, as the older Ashley stood gagging.

Her head dropped limply, like a weighted ragdoll, to the floor, her expression forever frozen at one of terrified surprise. Seconds later, the wendigo gathered her severed head and her lifeless body, dragging it over the filthy basement floor and into the darkness.

Ashley began to run, tears pushing against her closed eyelids. When she burst into another hallway, she discovered Mike sitting against the wall, looking like he'd been put through the wringer more than once.

Apparently, he'd seen a younger version of himself die as well, burned to death in a fire.

"My body just… fell, like a deadweight," he'd explained to her, his voice coming out in short, forceful exclamations. "I was like, Jesus! My skin looked like molten lava. Not something I wanted to fucking see."

Ever since they teamed up hours ago, Ashley had been holding out hope that they'd run into someone else, preferably Chris. Hell, she'd even take Josh. Sam, Emily. _Somebody_.

As Mike leaned against the wall currently, with Ashley pacing back and forth at one end of the endless corridor, they had just escaped from another awful scene that was really troubling for Ashley.

She and Mike were both standing behind what looked the side door of the lodge. It was the same door that Ashley had nearly torn off its hinges to let Sam, Hannah, and Beth back in the year before. Except this time, Chris was on the other side.

He was banging on the glass, yelling desperately for her to open the door. And yet something in the younger Ashley's mind stopped her from putting her hand on that knob, like she did in actuality.

Ashley began to choke with sobs as the wendigo launched its bony body onto him, slamming Chris against the door, which rattled in its frame. The monster went on to tear Chris's head off his body just like it had done to Ashley in the other scene.

"No! No! Please, make it stop!" the older Ashley cried. She barely noticed the comforting hand of Mike on her shoulder. Soon after, the scene disappeared into a bloody mist, though not before she opened her eyes one last time to see Chris's disembodied head land on the cement patio, his glasses twisted and broken a few feet away.

Now she was staring into the front facing camera of her phone. It was just about the only useful app, since everything else was cut off from the Internet.

Her eyeliner, so carefully applied hours earlier, was now lost in a smudgy disaster of tear-blotched mascara and eyeshadow. Her contacts were ridiculously dry, and felt like little bits of sandpaper in her eyes each time she blinked.

"Hey, Ash…"

Mike's voice unglued her bloodshot eyes from the screen. Sniffing, she acknowledged him with words slurred by fear and excess mucus. "What is it?"

"Maybe we should go through another room now," he urged, stepping away from the wall and strolling down the hall, eyeing door after door.

"Mike, please! I don't want to go through another one of those… those God awful _scenes_ ," she pleaded, putting her phone to sleep and sliding it back in her pocket. "If we just stay here, we're bound to be found by someone else eventually." _Preferably, Chris. Or maybe Jess so he'll finally be quiet about her._

"No," Mike argued. "We'll just starve to death. If somebody else in the group was gonna find us, they would've by now." His voice was firm, his eyes matching his tone, unwavering and ice-cold. "Besides, I'm not sitting around while Jess could be getting traumatized right at this very moment. If you move your butt too, then you'll see Chris sooner."

As much as she despised admitting it, him bribing her with Chris worked, in some stupid way. Reluctantly she rose to her feet, blinking hard as she tried to see through her useless contacts.

"Mike, I—"

"Wait. Shut up. I see a light over there," Mike interrupted, his body posture frigid like a statue's. He began to creep toward the hazy light source, which was all the way at the other end of the corridor.

Silently cursing him, Ashley tiptoed after him, her fingers instinctively moving to tug at an edge of her beanie.

The hallway really seemed to have no end, and it took a good couple minutes for the grumpy pair to reach the light source. It was coming from a vent up near the ceiling, shining through the slits of metal and highlighting a cloud of dust particles in the air.

"Jeez, this hotel really is _waaaay_ too dusty for my taste," Mike commented under his breath.

"It's way too dusty for anyone's taste," Ashley pointed out, crossing her arms and staring up at the vent. "So what are we supposed to…"

" _Shhh_ ," Mike urged, to her chagrin. He used a sturdier doorknob to hoist himself up. Balancing one foot on the handle and using his fingers to cling to the edges of the vent cover, he was somehow able to peer between the metal slats.

"Well?" Ashley whispered harshly.

Mike angled his head to the left so he could narrow his eyes down at her. " _Well_ , Ash, I'm gonna take off this cover and you're gonna crawl through the air ducts to find help."

"You've gotta me kidding me!" she hissed. When he didn't confirm that he was, indeed, joking, she added less vehemently, "… you are kidding, right?"

"No. Why the hell would I be pissing around right now?" With a groan, he secured his grip around the edges of the vent cover. "Watch out!"

Ashley barely heeded his warning in time as with one last forceful yank, Mike fell backwards right onto where she had been standing. The rusty old grate sailed through the air after him and clanged against the wall at a cringe-worthy volume.

Biting her lip, Ashley bent over Mike, examining him closely. His chest was rising and falling quickly, his eyes squeezed shut and his teeth bared in a grimace. "… you alright?" she whispered.

"I'm good, I'm good," Mike replied, hopping to his feet suddenly. "Yeah, I'm just great." He tilted his head back, holding his head with one hand yet still smiling as his eyes landed on the open airway. "Well, whataya know? I haven't eaten in twenty-four hours and I've still got the strength to pry open a stupid little vent cover."

"Congratulations," Ashley said, the word saturated with sarcasm. He didn't seem to notice, which was fortunate for her since she'd almost added _Do you want me to throw confetti over you? Put you on the national news? Swoon over your exaggerated manliness and immense strength?_

"Alright, so I'm gonna give you a boost now," Mike said, his gaze flitting over her furrowed brow and deep frown. Clearly he was choosing to ignore her unwilling demeanor.

"Fine," she caved, watching as he kneeled against the wall under the airway. Stepping up onto his knee, Ashley fastened her fingers onto the edge of the air duct. Mike slowly began to shift her upwards until she was eye-level with the tunnel.

It took every ounce of strength in Ashley's muscles to thrust her body arms first into the duct. The action wasn't as smooth as a sword sliding into its sheath, but somehow she was still able to fit inside.

"Now what?" she called, her breath stirring up an alarmingly thick layer of dust. Her entire body was surrounded by wispy gray dust bunnies. She coughed, and the noise rang loud through the tunnels, echoing loudly and ringing in her ears.

"Go find help," Mike replied with a muffled voice. Ashley felt pressure on her feet as he pushed her the rest of the way in. Once she was fully inside, she sneezed, and dust flew into her face.

"Ugh, crap," she moaned, flailing out her arms to clear away the grime in front of her. Now it was up to her to drag herself forward on her belly like some type of slug.

Ashley was not nearly as athletic as Sam and Beth, or as graceful as Jess and Em. She and Hannah were more alike, being that they were as clumsy as newborn deer trying to walk, and possessed the strength of an ant. Therefore, Ashley doubted she could get very far with her noodle arms as the only way to pull herself forward.

Nevertheless, she was able to summon the power to haul her body forward several feet. The dim light of the hallway faded into a tiny square behind her, and the light she was moving towards became brighter and brighter.

At last, she stumbled upon a dead end. Ashley was confused; she had been trailing some kind of light source, and yet now here she was, nose-to-nose with solid wall. She must've taken a wrong turn somewhere.

But wait— surely she was crazy, but she could've sworn she heard something through the wall. Ashley moved forward a little more, gritting her teeth as she strained to press her ear against the wall.

"… need to find somebody…"

"… worried about him…"

"… don't get why Gray's doing this…"

The voices were so familiar, and a grin formed on Ashley's face in spite of herself. She didn't hesitate to pound her fists against the wall. "Hey! Hello, in here!"

"… what?" The voices dwindled, but then a few seconds later there was a grunt and then someone rapped their knuckles on the other side. "Hello?"

Sam's stifled voice boomed through the wall, and Ashley's heart soared as Chris's voice joined it. "Ash, babe! Is that you?"

"Yes, yes, it's me. I'm in the air duct, Mike sent me to find help…"

"That ass wipe must've sealed off the vent in this hallway but not yours," Chris grumbled, anger laced between his words. "Hold on, Ash. We'll find something to get you out of there."

Ashley heard a thump, probably as Sam and Chris jumped down. She was pretty sure she could hear additional voices besides theirs, but she couldn't be sure.

It took several minutes, but eventually Chris yelled, "Move back, Ash! There's a blunt object coming your way."

Once again, she barely had time to move away before something was flung at the wall on the other side. It was accompanied by a loud _smack_ as the object hit the wall, which gave a little to the force of the impact.

"Again, Matt!"

Ashley winced as the wall suffered another blow. Whatever was thrown this time seemed to inflict more damage, as the smooth surface splintered and a pinpoint of light glared through.

"A- _ha_! All those years of football practice paid off. I've still got a great arm," Matt boasted, pleased.

"Yeah, yeah, Mr. Hotshot," Sam snorted good-naturedly.

"Use that great arm of yours and throw it again," Beth's voice piped up, leaking through the minuscule hole.

Ashley shied away as the object was thrown again, this time with a note of finality as it crashed through the wall, landing with a thud at Ashley's trembling fingertips. A fresh cloud of dust was disturbed, and Ashley sneezed again. She glanced down at the object, and was shocked to see that it was someone's phone, now with a shattered screen and all scratched up at the edges.

Matt, Beth, Sam and Chris were all grinning up at her. Ashley lifted up the phone, thinking it looked familiar. "Chris, is this your…?"

"It _was_ my phone," he told her, catching it pretty easily when she tossed it down to him. "But I sacrificed it to free my beautiful princess from the tall tower."

Ashley blushed at his corny answer, unable to say much more than a "thank you."

The others helped her down, with Chris placing her back on her feet. He kissed the top of her head, holding her close. "I'm so glad you're okay," he whispered.

"It's so great to see you again," she returned, breathing in the musky scent of his hoodie. "But your phone…"

"My phone doesn't matter," he said firmly, leaning back to look her in the eyes. "I can get a new one."

Chris was acting like a busted phone was no big deal, but Ashley knew that deep down it probably really was. He was a technology buff; he had printer ink running through his veins and a hard drive in his heart. It meant so much to her that he would deliberately destroy one of the most precious pieces of tech he owned just to free her from a dusty prison.

"Okay, you two. You can always make out later, but right now we gotta find a way out of here," Sam announced, her eyes glittering with amusement as she looked from the couple to Matt and Beth.

"Right," Chris said, straightening and clearing his throat awkwardly. Ashley giggled, wrapping one hand around his arm as they stood at attention.

"You said Mike was with you, right?" Sam asked her.

"Yeah, but there was no way he was able to fit through the airway, since I barely did myself," Ashley explained. "I had to leave him in the other hallway."

"I swear to God, all of these hallways look exactly the same," Matt complained, glaring all around him.

"Yeah, and so do all of these doors. Yet what we see behind each one is so drastically different," Beth added.

"You mean gore and bloody deaths?" Ashley asked, her eyes watering at the mere thought of what she had seen with Mike. Her head, tossed like a piece of meat onto the ground. Chris's head, detached so precisely from his body and gushing blood.

"Right," Sam said, shuddering. "Look, guys, I know things seem bleak right now, but I'm sure we'll find a way out of this somehow. It helps that we have another person now."

"But what about the others?" Beth murmured, her eyes wide. "My siblings, and Jess and Em and—"

"We'll find them," Sam assured her. Ashley could see her own concern reflected clearly on Sam's face.

The blonde spun around and began to walk down the hall, peering closely at the walls and running her hands over the outdated floral wallpaper that screamed "seventies."

"What are you doing…?" Chris questioned, his brow arched.

"Well, we didn't even know that there was that airway opening sealed up," Sam called over her shoulder. "So maybe there's another secret exit hidden behind this nasty old wallpaper."

"And if there's not?"

"Then we'll just have to crawl back through the air ducts, I guess. There were other ways to turn, right, Ash?"

"There were a few other paths, I guess," Ashley informed them. "But not too many. There was too much dust in my eyes to really tell."

Sam nodded in reply, but continued to jog farther away, still pushing against the wall every now and then. Just when she'd nearly reached the end of the corridor, she hesitated, then leaned all of her weight against a portion of the wall. "Guys! Come help me."

Ashley followed the others as they raced past the long array of doors. When they got to Sam, they all helped push against the wall.

It took fifteen or so seconds of effort, but gradually the wall gave way. First the gross wallpaper ripped, and then after that the drywall collapsed, revealing a door that was slightly smaller than the others.

Sam grinned, pumping a fist jubilantly. She put her hand on the worn old knob and began to turn it, the others leaning forward in anticipation.

"Let's go."

* * *

 **I hope you liked the Ashley chapter! It was surprisingly difficult to write.**

 **So I just wanted to say something about the fate of this fandom. I know a lot of people have been saying that it's dying, which really disappoints me since I joined it so late. I really wish I had been here during Until Dawn's peak, when there were so many more people to obsess over the game with. I know there are still a lot of people who are so devoted to this game well over a year after its release. It is hard, since it's doubtful anything fresh will ever be released with these same characters, considering the game's ending is determinant. I do think Rush of Blood and the canon last name reveal has revived the UD fandom a little bit, so that's a plus.**

 **I'm just hoping that this fandom stays active for a long time, because I love these characters and the people on here, dA, and Tumblr so much. If the UD fandom does eventually fall into an indefinite period of inactivity, just know that I will be fighting it with all my strength.**

 **Love you guys! -E**


	19. Obstacles

**Mike**

Mike found himself chewing on his lip as the sound of Ashley shuffling through the airway faded in the distance.

When it was impossible to hear any trace of her anymore, Mike slouched back against the wall, frowning. He surveyed the vast selection of identical doors all around him, and kicked the rusty vent cover angrily.

"The hell am I supposed to go now?" he muttered. Deep down he knew what the grim answer was: he had to wait for Ashley, if she was even going to come back. Or… he could choose another door and undergo another hell only to emerge in another hallway slathered in unattractive floral wallpaper and forty-year-old carpet caked with dust.

He wasn't about to wait around, not when the others were out there, separated or alone. He didn't know if any of his friends had stumbled onto each other like he and Ash did. He hoped against hope that maybe, just maybe, Jess found someone to be with. Mike couldn't stand the thought of her being alone and terrified.

His girlfriend had never been the same after that night on the mountain. While some of the others— such as Sam, Emily, and even Ash— emerged braver than they had been before, Jessica's personality diminished.

What used to be an outgoing and exuberant person was reduced to a mere shell of what she used to be. It took a very long time for her to heal physically, mentally, and emotionally. But Mike had been patient; he had hung in there for her. He insisted that her scars gave her a unique and breathtaking kind of beauty. He got to know her family, which he would consult when he wasn't sure how to help her. Her parents and brothers finally began to view him as more than a flaky, noncommittal boyfriend who would be around for a few months then gone, never to be mentioned of again. Forgotten.

Mike didn't want to be forgotten by Jess or the Rileys. He had never felt about someone before the way he felt about her. For the first time in his life, he knew that he was in it for the long run. Jess was the person he wanted to be with for the rest of his life. Mike was pretty confident that he would be able to tackle whatever obstacles came their way.

So, needless to say, when he emerged from a double whammy depicting two separate deaths including hers, he was shaken. It took a few long moments for him to hear the voices around the corner.

When he had walked through a door, he was immediately plunged into a slushy, nose-numbing forest. He glimpsed himself, six years younger, wearing nothing but a rumpled wife beater and jeans. His fingers, still intact and untouched yet by the teeth of a bear trap, shakily held a lantern, the flame of which glowed hazily in the unwelcoming darkness of the woods.

In his other hand, the other Mike toted a shotgun, retrieved from the guest cabin where he and Jess had begun to make out. Where he had peeled off her clothes, and she had taken off his coat and unbuttoned his shirt. Where they were about to have mind-blowing intercourse— until the wendigo took her.

It was her shrieks as she was dragged through the snow by the monster, damn near naked with shards of glass embedded in her soft skin, that led to the younger Mike being out here.

" _Michael, help me!_ "

" _JESSICA! I'm coming…_ "

Something was off about what Mike was watching, however. From what he recalled from that night six years ago, he had taken risky paths to get to her sooner. Never in his right mind would he have taken his time moseying on down a safe trail. Never would he want to put his safety over hers.

But this Mike didn't seem to care. He was cautious as he made his way down cleared-out paths. "Why the fuck am I being such a pussy?" Mike whispered to himself, irritation and urgency making his blood prickle under his skin.

The thing Mike expected least, however, was what he and his younger self found when they finally made it into the mine shaft. Jess was there— or what was left of her. It looked like her lower jaw was missing, ripped away by that hell-borne creature. The younger Mike fell to his knees, devastated, and barely reached out a hand before she was whisked away, falling and falling and falling into the bowels of the mines.

Modern-day Mike began to run away, expecting everything to fade to black around him. His fingertips were so numb it felt like they could fall off. His ears burned from the cold, as if frost had settled over them.

Yet when he opened his eyes again, he found himself standing next to the younger Mike. The scene formed around him, painting the dark gray walls and old, rusted bloodstains of the sanatorium. The other Mike was now dirtier, grime smudged all over his body. Small cuts littered his face; he looked exhausted enough, and lifeless enough, to be a real walking zombie.

His head was tilted back, his hands— both of which had five fingers, Mike was mildly surprised to see— motioning toward the gaping hole in the ceiling.

Mike's eyes landed on what his other self was looking at. His heart beamed when he recognized the silvery-white fur and gleaming golden eyes of a wolf. _The_ wolf, Wolfie, who had accompanied Mike throughout his time in that horrible abandoned building. Every detail that Mike remembered about him was exactly the same: the dapple of filth over his pelt, the bushy tail that dragged glumly on the ground. More than once over the years, Mike admitted to wondering whether he should return to the mountain and try to find that wolf again. Rescue him from that hell, the only life he had ever known.

Just as he recalled, Wolfie whined and backed away when Mike prompted him to jump down into his arms. Right when Mike assumed that everything in this scene was the same as in real life, a skeletal blur pounced on Wolfie out of nowhere.

"Shit. Fuck," Mike shouted.

A few seconds later, Wolfie's mangled body was left to dangle at the edge of the hole, hind legs bloody and battered, swinging limply like the pendulum of a grandfather clock. The younger Mike stared at them in horror.

He ran. Finally, _finally_ , the older Mike was able to find a doorknob as inky black surrounded him. Now he sat collapsed in the hallway, trying not to imagine the fates of Jess and Wolfie in some other world. A completely different timeline, something different from the one they lived in.

 _Where is she? Where is she?_ Mike grinded his teeth and smacked his palms against his forehead, which was slick with sweat. Dark circles hung under his eyes like bruises, gently pulling his eyelids closed. Urging him to sleep, to at least try and recharge his fatigued body.

"Mike!"

His head jerked up.

"Hey, Mike, you alive, buddy?"

He unfolded his legs, using the wall as support so he could stand without toppling over. His mouth broke into a wide smile when he saw who was rushing towards him.

Josh was in the lead, and immediately behind him were Jess, Hannah, and Emily. Jess grinned shyly at him, her pace slowing as Mike hastily closed the gap between them until she was nestled in his arms. Her silky hair was woven into a simple braid that fell past her right shoulder: one of her favorite hairstyles. Her eyes were still watery and anxious, making it easy for him to tell that she still wasn't completely fine yet.

Then again, none of them really were.

"Mike, dude, it's so good to see you," Josh greeted him, softly punching his shoulder. "I was startin' to go crazy around all these ladies!"

"Oh, be quiet," Emily warned, scowling at him. "I think being stuck with three women is better than having your eyes gouged out."

"Or your head ripped off," Hannah supplied. She stuck her tongue out at her brother. "I know you love us, Josh. Just admit it!"

Josh threw his arm over her shoulders, squeezing her close to him for a bit. "Aw, I just _cannot_ resist my charming lil' sis!" he gushed.

Hannah glared at him as he pinched her cheek, and she reached up an arm to ruffle his hair. "God, you're cheesier than lasagna. If Beth were here she'd be gagging."

"Speaking of lasagna," Josh said, poking his sister's cheek one final time before they separated. "This Gray asshat needs to _feed_ us already!" His voice heightened into a yell, and he narrowed his eyes, glancing all around them. No voice sounded. No sign of Gray.

"And speaking of Beth," Emily piped up, her sharp tone slicing into the siblings' playful mushiness. "We really gotta find the others."

"I wonder if her asshole of a boyfriend is still around," Josh grumbled, exchanging disdainful glances with Hannah. "Daniel can really be a dick sometimes to her—"

"He's not still around. I saw him flee when Gray's agents sedated us," Emily told them.

Mike watched as imaginary steam puffed out of Josh's ears like smoke out of a car's exhaust pipe. The eldest Washington sibling was very protective of his sisters, and rightfully so. Mike hadn't been the least bit upset when Josh knocked out a few of Daniel's teeth at the bar the other night.

"I swear," Josh seethed. "When I get my hands on that guy…"

"Come on," Emily said. "We _really_ have to figure out a way to get out of this. Then maybe we could sleep again. And _eat_."

Mike's stomach rumbled right then. "Perfect timing," he muttered bitterly.

Jess was still leaning into him like her life depended on it. Not that he minded, though. She seemed weaker than usual, though he assumed it was due to lack of food. Hunger, a vicious little sharp-toothed monster, had been gnawing at his stomach for the last several hours. He had managed to ignore it until now.

"No one has anything to eat?" Josh asked desperately. "Because soon I'm gonna start peeling off that dusty old wallpaper and literally eat it."

Emily wrinkled her nose at him.

"Hey, it's not the worst thing I'll have done in here," he protested, raising up his hands in surrender. "I had to pee earlier, so… I, uh, I went in the corner of one of the hallways."

Everyone stared at him with gaping jaws.

"What?" Josh shrugged. "Nature called, I had to fulfill my duty. Besides, I'm sure one of Gray's minions will have plenty of fun cleaning that carpet."

" _Anyway_ —" Emily spoke, trying to redirect the conversation.

"Hey, I found something in my pocket!" Hannah announced. From her jeans pocket she produced a peppermint candy covered in blue lint.

"Thank God!" Josh breathed, lunging forward and snatching it. In a flash he unwrapped the candy and prepared to pop it into his waiting mouth.

"Hold on a minute!" Mike objected. "Josh, we're all starving and dehydrated. The least you can do is—"

"I'm going to share! I'll suck on it for ten seconds, then you, then Jess, then Hannah, then Em," Josh replied, sticking the candy in his mouth.

"Yeah, no. I'm not swapping saliva with you," Emily sighed. "Count me out."

One by one, the others also opted out, including Hannah. Even when Josh tried to convince her— "Hannah, we're _related_! We've shared smoothie straws—" she still refused.

"Well. Now you guys are just making me feel bad," Josh mumbled. He began to dig something out of his own pocket. It was a pill bottle, and he proceeded to twist open the cap, shake a pill into his palm, and then swallow it along with the mostly dissolved candy.

"Pills," Hannah said. Her eyes lit up as an idea came to her. "Wait, pills! Josh, that's a source of food, something to put in our stomachs. Are those your schizophrenia medication?"

"Yeah," he confirmed.

Hannah turned to the rest of them. "Guys, we all can take one of Josh's pills. Then when we have to go into the next room, the hallucinations probably won't be as bad."

"I don't know…"

Emily charged forward and stole the bottle out of Josh's hand. "I dunno about the rest of you, but I'm taking one. It's an idiotic idea, but if it means all this shit we're seeing won't be as bad then I'm sure as hell on board." She tossed back her head and swallowed a pill.

"Em…" Mike said, his eyes wide.

She whirled on him, jabbing a finger at his chest. "Michael Munroe, if you even _suggest_ that this is a stupid idea then I will send you back the way you came! The only time I have ever looked or felt worse in my life was on that night, but this is all becoming very close to how I felt then. Don't even _try_ to stop me."

"Leave him alone, Em," Jess murmured. Her voice was about as stable as a chair with three legs, but her stature was defiant as she looked at her ex-best friend. "He's just concerned for our safety."

Emily scoffed. "Whatever. I don't even wanna hear it from you, Riley. You're too _fragile_ to even sustain a strong argument anyway."

Jess tensed against him, but Mike pulled her in close as Emily walked away. "Ignore her," he begged, resting his chin on top of her head. Their sizeable height difference forced him to lean down to do this, so at first he didn't notice Hannah holding out two pills to him.

"Here," she said, thrusting her hand closer.

Mike thanked her, reluctantly scooping up the small white tablets from her open palm. He tried to meet Hannah's gaze, but her eyes were timorously focused on something beyond him.

Mike swallowed a pill, then offered it to Jess.

"I'm fine," she mumbled.

"Babe, are you sure?"

" _Yes_ ," she assured him, the word coming out more forcefully than he was expecting.

Josh wordlessly grabbed the pill back from his hand.

As he led them into the next room, Mike felt Jessica's hand slide into his, a perfect fit just like always. He was still somewhat pissed off that Emily had called her "fragile." Where the hell did that come from? Insulting people was classic Em, but why did that word in particular seem to penetrate into Jess?

Josh's pill had clearly taken effect quickly. Mike could almost feel the pill as it drifted deeper into his system, dissolving and spreading its repairing power into his blood, canceling out whatever would normally make them see something in the room.

Without the hallucinations, the room was dull as ever. Emily, Josh, and Hannah were calm as well, looking about idly at the cement floor, walls, and ceiling. It had probably been a hotel room at some point, before it was stripped down to nothing.

Jess, however, was still seeing something. A squeak of fear tumbled out of her throat, and she wrapped her arms around Mike, eyes wide as she stared in terror at something he couldn't see.

It broke his heart. "Jess, you have to take a pill. It doesn't hurt you!" Mike insisted, looking to Josh and willing him to take out the bottle. "You'll be fine if you take it—"

She didn't seem to hear him. "Oh, god!" she cried. "No, no, no no no no please…"

Mike glared at Josh. "She's suffering! Give me a pill."

" _NO_!"

Her scream burned his eardrums, stabbed at every single nerve in his body. A shudder shook his spine, rattled a sudden breath of air through his lungs. Mike did a double take at Josh to make sure he was seeing him right. Sure enough, the dark-haired man was refusing to look at him or Jess, guilt shining in his eyes. Hannah was doing the same; even Emily, slouched against the wall, chose to ignore his girlfriend's piercing sobs.

Soon Mike's yells of "Jess!" blended with her deafening "No, no please!"

Why was nobody listening? Why did nobody _care_?

Mike was grabbing at her trembling body, trying to pull her closer to him, but she wouldn't, or couldn't, budge. His wild stare raked over the others, and something dawned on him.

They knew something he didn't.

Abruptly Jessica's cries were cut off, and she tore herself away from his grasp, running faster than a cheetah on crack cocaine. The room was small, but she was able to blindly control her path until she found the door on the other side of the room.

Everyone else followed her, baffled. _There was not a door there before._ Even with the pills, something in their subconscious was still off. Gray was somehow still getting to them.

They burst into the hallway, and the first thing Mike's eyes landed on was a container of water bottles and a few packs of Tasty Cakes thrown haphazardly onto the floor. Gray had been listening to them— he knew they were dying of hunger and thirst. Either that, or he finally decided that he'd rather not have his subjects die on him.

Before Mike could even open his mouth to wonder if Gray had possibly tainted the stuff, the siblings and Emily were already on top of it, shredding the plastic and dousing their faces and parched tongues with water. They devoured the cakes like ravenous wolves, crumbs flying everywhere.

Mike was more civilized as he took a couple bottles of water and a few packs of food, bringing them over to Jess. She was rocking back and forth in a corner, her knuckles white as she clutched her shins.

"Jess," he said, his voice as fragile as a moth's wing. She blinked at him gratefully, taking a water and a pack of junk food from his outstretched hand.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, welcoming his embrace when he sat back against the wall alongside her.

Mike broke open the plastic seal on the cap and chugged the water. It was room temperature, but better than nothing. "Sorry for what?" He tried not to roll his eyes. "You have _nothing_ to be sorry for."

She smiled at him forlornly. "I'm sorry I couldn't take that pill, but it wouldn't be safe." She pressed her lips to the bottle's opening but didn't drink right away. He sensed hesitation pulsating from every fiber of her body.

"Everyone was fine," he comforted her. "Nobody had any problems from taking Josh's pills. Hell, it wasn't the smartest idea ever, but it really helped. We didn't see a single thing."

"Mike." Jess took a big breath. Her eyes wouldn't meet his for the longest time. He could hear every little puff of air as she inhaled and exhaled through her nose. Then, after a few long minutes, with the others settling down following their food rampage, her gaze snagged his and wouldn't let go.

"Jess…?"

"Michael, I— ugh. Well, do you remember when… when I asked if you liked kids?" Her words were precarious, every other syllable pronounced with a slight stutter.

He swallowed. His fingers instinctively crept towards hers, sliding across his thigh ever so slowly. "Yes."

"Well, it was stupid of me to ask you b- before I knew for sure, but… now I know for sure," she rambled. It was like she was tongue-tied; in all their years together Mike had never seen her have this much difficulty enunciating.

"Michael, I'm… I'm pregnant."

His hand froze, fingertips a millimeter away from hers. No words, not even a grunt, came to his lips. His mouth was dry, his tongue a piece of sandpaper in a stale desert.

What she had said sunk in quickly, and he was left to his own devices for a moment, his mind reeling at this new information thrown at him. _Holy shit. Holy_ shit _! She's… my girlfriend is… oh my god…_

"U- um, wellll…" he spluttered. He was such an adorable hot mess. His tongue flopped like a fish out of water. What could he say, _what could he say_?

Jess was peering up at him, terror etched on her face. Terror not borne from gore, but terror borne from his reaction so far. Mike was sure he must've looked like a deer in headlights.

So he did the only logical thing his panicking mind could think of: he tilted his head and collided his lips against hers. She tasted sweet, chocolate residue from the long-awaited food transferring from her mouth to his. It took a second, but she gave in to the kiss, albeit with a puzzled glint in her eyes. Mike pressed on, keeping it intense enough to continue capturing her attention. His tongue had finally found a place being intertwined with hers. The extraordinary feeling of kissing her almost made him forget about Josh, Hannah, and Em on the other end of the hallway. It almost made him forget about his sudden onslaught of nerves.

 _Almost_.

Jess broke it off, staring at him with a calculating fondness. When she spoke again, she was confident. "I want to keep it. I want to have this baby."

It felt like concentrated sugar had been poured into his blood, and for some strange reason, Mike enjoyed the fizzy feeling. He beamed at her. "Okay."

"'Okay'? Look, Mike, I know you said…"

He rested his good hand on her gorgeous face, his little finger fitting perfectly under her jawbone. "Forget what I said, Jess. And even if I'm not the number one fan of children, come on. Do you really think I'll hate a little baby that you and I made together? Hell no. I'll love that kid to death."

Her lower lip trembled like crazy, so she leaned in for another quick peck on the lips to stop it. "I love you," she breathed, her sweet breath warming his face.

"Love you too."

"I'm scared," she admitted, her warmth spreading into his body when she placed her hand on his.

Mike dipped his head and touched his forehead to hers. "Me too."

This, he decided, was an obstacle bigger and more fearsome than most. But there was no other person he'd rather be tackling it with.

* * *

 **Yes, so, Mike/Jess fluff galore, and most of it was written well past midnight - that probably explains how weird I find this chapter when I read over it. Oh well, it'll do.**

 **Thank you for the love guys! Happy early Halloween.**


	20. Declaration

**Sam**

Dust crept down Sam's throat, resulting in a choking cough that overwhelmed her for a couple seconds.

"Jesus! You okay?"

She felt Beth's hand on her shoulder, and with one last firm swallow, Sam nodded and waved her away. "I'm fine, I'm fine. It's just dusty as hell in here."

"Remember we're still in the hotel," Chris reminded her from farther behind. "AKA the place with the Guinness world record for dust."

A few steps later, they were cloaked in complete darkness, as if a black cape had been thrown over their heads. Sam clawed at her pocket, digging out her phone and turning on its flashlight.

The harsh glow it emitted helped guide her the rest of the way through the narrow secret tunnel. The light revealed exposed insulation and wires peeking out from holes in the rotted old wood paneling.

Although the path definitely needed a good swipe or two from a Swiffer brush, Sam could see recent footprints left in the grime. She was so focused on staring at the prints on the floor that she nearly bumped her head into a wall.

"Shit!" Beth cursed, her voice a breath in Sam's ear. "Dead end."

"No, wait," Sam said. She slammed her hands against the wall, spreading out her fingers. A hollow-sounding _thunk_ greeted her, and after another smack, the others caught on.

"Okay, so, it's hollow, but how are we supposed to break through it?" Ashley hissed through gritted teeth. She was sandwiched in the middle behind Beth and in front of Chris, probably in the hopes that she'd feel most protected there. Sam recalled how much Ashley detested getting dirty— whenever the group had gone hiking during previous, much happier trips to the lodge, Ash had always gotten upset at the tiniest speck of mud on her sneaker. Sam wondered how she was handling all the dust here. _She must've really been hating life when she was covered in blood on that night._

Sam took a small breath, not wanting to clog her sinuses with this poor air quality. "We need something to break it, like how we broke Ash out before."

"Here, let me through." Matt squeezed by the others and appeared beside Sam. "I could try to punch through it." Rolling up his sleeve, he prepared his hand.

"Matt, are you sure?" Sam frowned. "What if you really hurt—"

"Don't care," Matt grunted. "If it means we get out of this suffocating tunnel then I'm all for crushing my hand. Now, stand back."

Sam obeyed, wincing as he leaned back, hesitated, then drove his fist into the wall. To everyone's relief, the former football player's punch created a perfect hole. Several long cracks reached out from the hole, and the wall groaned from the injury.

"Well, that definitely wasn't as sturdy as I thought," Sam muttered, thanking Matt profusely and falling to her knees. She stuck her fingers in between chunks of drywall, pulling the pieces away until a petite person-sized crawlspace was formed.

"Sam, hon, I don't know if anyone's gonna fit through that," Beth pointed out.

Sam grinned over her shoulder at her. "Perks of being small," she replied exultantly, squeezing herself through like string through the eye of a needle.

She emerged into a hallway that was identical to the one they'd left except for the five other people staring gleefully at her. Emily, Jess, Mike, Hannah, and Josh. _Josh_.

He wore a smile wide enough to tear his cheeks, but as the others climbed out behind her he quickly composed himself. Sam blushed as she locked gazes with him for one bittersweet, too short second. _At least he's respecting my wishes for no one else to know about us._ She snorted, offering a hand to help Matt, who was cradling his sore hand, out of the tunnel. _Us. Or, well, whatever the hell it is we've got going on._

On the other hand, Matt didn't disguise his affection as he rushed forward into Emily's arms. "Em! Thank god you're okay."

"Right back at ya," Emily answered, rubbing his back as they embraced.

Hannah and Josh rushed to greet their sister, though he absolutely would not stop shooting side glances at Sam. She rubbed her arm and awkwardly stood off to the side while everyone reacquainted themselves.

 _Ugh, I've never wanted to kiss someone as much as I want to kiss him right now._ What made it all the more tempting was how much he clearly reciprocated that feeling.

Hannah walked over to Sam, giving her best friend a nudge. "Gray gave us food and water, over here," she murmured, leading the parched and starving group over to what was left of the supply.

Chris arched an eyebrow as he bent down to retrieve water bottles for everyone. He fingered the torn plastic of the water case. "Uh, it looks like a pack of wolves got to this first."

"Aw, shut it, Cochise. Werewolf instincts kicked in for a few seconds there. No need to judge," Josh lamented.

Sam laughed with the others, gratefully gulping down the water after Chris tossed her one with an amused eye roll.

When Beth handed her a Tasty Cake, Sam less eagerly began to rip open the wrapper.

"Just eat it, it's not like it's a pound of bacon," Hannah teased.

"Yeah, yeah. There's probably more chemicals in this than in a nuclear bomb, but to hell with it, I'm hungry." Sam wolfed down the junk food, grateful that she at least wasn't vegan anymore.

Just when she had swallowed her last chocolatey mouthful, a door slammed and Gray entered the hallway. His arms we crossed and his brow was furrowed enough to cut deep wrinkles into his forehead.

"Well, well, well," he began. "Looks like my clever little subjects found each other again. You're just like little magnets, aren't you? Can't even stay apart for forty-eight hours. Always gotta be… together."

"Well, well, well, I think we actually managed to be apart for six years, thank you very much," Mike growled, clenching his fists into hard rocks as he lunged toward the cop.

"Mike!" Jess warned, grabbing at a corner of his shirt to no avail.

"You should listen to your pretty little girlfriend, Michael," Gray taunted, a vicious smirk shattering his stoic expression. "I should be calling you _Hulk_. Are you going to turn green now? Break through your shirt and pound me into mush? I'm _terrified_."

"You should be," Mike said, sliding out of Jessica's reach. "Might as well go ahead and consider yourself a dead man."

Gray shook his head. "Christ! Get your temperament under control. Even _I_ never planned on killing anyone. _You_ might as well go ahead and consider yourself locked up. Don't you remember what I am?" He jabbed a hairy hand into his breast pocket and threw down his police badge so that it spun and landed at Mike's feet.

"What you _are_ is one slimy, messed-up motherfucker," Mike yelled. He kicked the badge away disdainfully as if it were a piece of rotten garbage.

"I'll have you arrested in the blink of an eye!" Gray threatened.

"Really? For what?"

"I don't need a reason, Michael. Every single person in this building is working for me. They'll throw you behind bars without a single shred of emotion."

Mike shifted forward again, just another half-inch closer to Gray. Sam could see Jess tensed as she followed after her boyfriend, trying desperately to coax him out of taking violent action.

Sam definitely didn't want to see any punches thrown either, not just because of her pacifist nature but also because she knew how ruthless Gray's retaliation would be. "Mike…" she tried, stepping closer to the hysterical trio.

"You have much more reason to rot in a prison cell than I do, _officer_ ," Mike shot back. Sam's warning and Jessica's whimpers went in one ear and right out the other.

Gray opened his mouth, but before any words could leave it, Mike's fury got the better of him and his fist rammed into the cop's eye. Jessica's cry of "Michael!" blended with Gray's snarl of pain.

Sam began to rush forward, as did some of the others after she sent glares in their direction. Gray recovered instantly, however, and blindly swung his burly arm in Mike's general vicinity.

The scene seemed to play out in slow motion in front of Sam. Her feet were trapped in cement. Gray's arm very narrowly missed Jessica's face, instead smashing into the wall and leaving an unsightly dent in the equally ugly wallpaper.

Mike broke free of Chris and Josh's restraints, pinning Gray against a door. "You almost hit her!" he screamed.

Gray grimaced, shying away from Mike's face like it was a loaded gun. "But I _didn't_ —"

"You would've hit my pregnant girlfriend and not felt the least bit sorry," Mike continued. The collar of Gray's shirt was gathered in his fist, and his knuckles were pressed against his stubbly neck. The cop gurgled helplessly.

Sam couldn't stand being a witness anymore. She tore herself out of the imaginary cement holding her back and thrust an arm between the two. "Mike!" she begged. "You're choking him."

Mike appeared to have heard some of what she'd said. He relaxed his grip, and Gray took an enormous breath, air wheezing through his nose. "Right. Right." Mike bit his lip and whirled around, freeing him the rest of the way. "It's my fault he nearly hit her anyway. I hit him first," he added, returning to Jess and sliding his hand into hers.

Despite Gray's flustered outward appearance— rumpled suit, fine lines in his face, beads of sweat formed around his receding hairline— he regained control of himself remarkably fast. "You sure did, buddy. You sure did hit me first. You'll be a _fantastic_ father." The cruel sarcasm in his tone was like a dagger in Mike's back.

Sam suppressed a cringe as her gaze flitted to Mike. He was still facing Jess, looking away from Gray. His body stiffened, but then she squeezed his hand and whispered something softly, relaxing him.

Gray pressed his fingers against his black eye and didn't even wince. "Now I hope you rebellious brats understand exactly what I want to happen. You _will_ cooperate with my plans. Thanks to me, you'll be so rich you're gonna drown in dollar bills and coins. You will regret ever resisting—"

"Don't you think the Washington family has enough cash to deal with, David?"

The unfamiliar voice tiptoed from around a gap in one of the doors, which was ajar. The owner of it arrived soon after, stepping out into the hallway with a confident gait. The only thing that gave away his older age was his angular visage, wizened with a few wrinkles and marks. Because of this Sam estimated his age to be mid-forties, although everything else about him made him so much younger. Even with the twenty-year age difference, Sam considered him an admittedly very attractive man.

"Ah, John. It's wonderful to see you," Gray greeted him warmly. John moved to stand beside him, folding his arms over his dress shirt and tie, both of which were very loose and sagged away from his body.

"Did you hear my question?" John rumbled, sliding his hands into his pockets.

"Well, yes, but—"

John's eyes were like blue ice that froze Gray mid-sentence. "You've gone way too far with these people, Dave. It's ridiculous."

"Ridiculous?" Gray spluttered.

"Look… I know how much you like this case, but now you've just become obsessed— you've admitted as much. Just let these people go, alright? There's no point in forcing them to wander through the hallway hallucinating themselves to death."

Anger singed Gray's ears red. "They let your father die, you can't forget that!"

"My father died helping these people, that's true. He sentenced himself to a fate of rotting in the belly of a wendigo just to save their lives. He gave them _knowledge_ , Dave, and I want to carry on my father's legacy somehow."

"And how will you do _that_?"

"By saving these people just like he did," John answered. From the pocket of his dress pants he produced a handgun and pressed the cold, waiting mouth against Gray's chest.

Sam's heart leapt into her throat. Throughout this ordeal, the group had been silent, but now most of them were muttering worriedly. Ashley almost looked as if she was surgically attached to Chris's side. Hannah and Beth were exchanging bemused glances, while Matt and Emily were glaring at Gray. Mike and Jess were standing a bit apart; she was inwardly fuming about something. Last but not least, there was Josh, casually inching closer and closer to Sam. She tilted her hand in his direction welcomingly, eager for his warmth to soothe her numb fingers. _Everyone else is too distracted, no one will notice…_

Instinctively, Gray threw his arms up when the barrel made contact with his plush body. "Y- you wouldn't _kill_ me, John. Your father never killed anyone."

Josh's fingertips brushed Sam's, and her joy blossomed. When they touched it was like the final two pieces of a big jigsaw puzzle fitting into place. So satisfying, so pleasing.

With the sleek agility of a well-seasoned karate instructor, John took ahold of Gray and knocked him to the ground. The big-boned man fell like a deadweight and squirmed under the younger person's loafer. "Man, you have to quit comparing me to my father. I'm damn sick of it." His tone held a clear note of finality as he went on, "And in any case, my father only did harm to monsters— figure I might as well do the same."

Leaning down, John dealt a brutal blow to Gray, flicking his wrist and cracking the other end of the gun against the defeated man's temple. He was knocked unconscious, and with a triumphant beam the skinny guy straightened and coolly dropped the weapon back into his pocket.

With Gray out cold, John didn't make time for official introductions at first. He ushered the group through the door he'd come from, where they found themselves in the empty lobby of the hotel.

Now that everyone was well aware again, Josh and Sam severed their connection. It disappointed her more than she wanted.

Matt swung his head around, blinking suspiciously. "Is this real?"

John offered them a stiff, toothless grin that struck Sam as hauntingly similar to someone she had only seen once in her life for not even five minutes— someone who was long dead.

"Yes, it is real, I promise you," he assured them, shutting the door and locking it. "None of the hallucination gas is behind this door, so you're perfectly safe here."

Sam exhaled, releasing all of the remaining pent-up fear and discomfort. "Thank you so much," she told him as the others threw in their own words of gratitude.

"But… who are you?" Beth asked, tilting her head at him with narrowed eyes.

"John Fiddler. David kept mentioning my father, who went by Jack Fiddler," the man explained as he slicked back his dark hair.

"Oh my god…" Emily whispered.

John shrugged. "My father lived on Blackwood Mountain and left my mother and I when I was two so he could fight the wendigos up there. To try and discover all their secrets."

"Oh," Hannah said. She gazed forlornly at him. "It… it was your father who didn't want my dad to build on sacred land."

"Yeah, he tried to warn Bob Washington against his construction project. He was very dedicated to that mountain— in some strange way, the mountain was his real son, not me." He laughed glumly. "My mother always told me that he wished I would carry on the Fiddler family legacy, you know, go up there and join my father when I was old enough. But I didn't. I moved to Seattle and became a cop instead. I never heard from my dad; he was only mentioned by Mom and once she died, I'd assumed that was that. Then I got a call in February six years ago. The police in Blackwood found his maimed, partially-eaten body in the mines on that damn mountain. I could only identify him for sure based on photographs I'd seen of him when he was younger."

Sam swallowed, scanning over the others. No one seemed quite sure of what to say, so she forced herself to speak up. "I- I'm sorry that happened to you. But I'm sure your dad loved you very much."

John stretched out his arms and cracked his knuckles. "Eh, maybe. However much he loved me, he loved that mountain more."

"We really owe your father," Chris burst out, words leaking out of him like bubbles out of a shaken soda bottle. "If it weren't for him telling us information and leaving his bag in the lodge, then we might've very well been goners. I… watched what happened to him. He had faith in me: he trusted me, of all people, with a shotgun. He was exceptionally brave—"

"Alright, alright, put a lid on it," John interrupted, his eyes suddenly glittering. "I had to deal with Dave harping on me about my father for the past few months, and I really don't feel like talking about him any more than I have to."

 **Linebreak I guess?**

John, much like his father, was far from a doting man. After a curt goodbye, he left them alone in the empty hotel with their luggage. All of Gray's minions were gone, by some miracle. The only other thing John said to them was to never mention the past few days to anyone.

Chris was smiling as he roamed around the lobby, holding his phone high in the air. "Aha! I snagged a signal, guys! I was having such bad Wi-Fi withdrawals…"

Jess and Mike were the new Matt and Emily, bickering about something. Sam tuned in briefly just to find out she was pissed about him taking rough action on Gray and nearly choking him till he turned blue.

"You didn't have to almost murder him!"

"I know, I know, I'm sorry, Jess. But he almost hit you and—"

"Key word being 'almost.'"

"I have to protect you now, you're more fragile…"

" _Fragile_? Did you really just call me that?"

Sam groaned and marched away, standing at the window and gripping her duffel bag in her hand. Through the grubby glass, Seattle was still alive and normal. No person outside knew what they had been subjected to. To everyone out there, it was just another regular day.

Speaking of which…

Sam stared down at her phone. Two days had passed— two days! As her phone reconnected to the outside world, a wild torrent of missed calls and texts popped up on her screen.

One of them was from Jeremy.

"What the hell what does he want?" she muttered. For a few seconds, her thumb hovered over his name on the screen. _Why didn't I delete his number in the first place?_

"Hey." Josh's voice tickled her ear, and Sam giggled, whirling around on him.

"Josh, they're gonna—"

"They walked out. Didn't you notice?" When Sam shook her head slowly, confusion etched on her face, Josh rolled his eyes. "Must've been too engrossed with your phone, huh? You're becoming the next Chris," he teased.

"Alright. Okay," she said, staring at him challengingly. Her forehead only reached his chin, so she nearly had to break her neck to glare up at him. "Fine, then. No phone." Hitting the lock button, she watched as Jeremy's name faded away, then let the device slip through her fingers and hit the floor with a _thud_. "Now kiss me."

Josh gladly obliged, lifting her up in his arms and peppering her face with kisses. He finished it with a long one on the lips.

Ugh, he tasted _magnificent_. He was so good, she doubted she'd even hate his morning breath. Despite this, Sam made herself pull away, and he set her back on her feet. "Do you have to go so soon?" He buried his face in her hair, pressing his lips against her scalp.

Her fingers played with the edge of his flannel. The fabric was so soft against her skin, yet the gentler Sam was with it the more she yearned to pull it off and see what was under that shirt. She'd always wondered it in the back of her mind, and now she thought about it more than ever throughout the past week.

Sam rested her cheek on his chest. "Yeah… Chicago's calling my name."

He pushed her away more roughly than she'd anticipated. His hands grasped her forearms. "What if Seattle's calling your name, too?" His eyes. His eyes, his eyes, _his eyes_. They were a different type of green, they were so many different greens. She wanted to explore those eyes, explore his mouth, explore his body.

 _Dammit, I'm in deep._

"… um, maybe Chicago's calling _your_ name… too…" Sam glowered at her feet. Was she really this rusty with flirting? Could the disastrous string of words that just left her mouth even be _called_ flirting?

Josh started to reply, but right then Chris exploded through the creaky double doors. "Guys!"

He didn't even bat an eye at seeing them hanging on each other like Romeo and Juliet. "What?" Josh demanded, immediately shifting away from her. Sam sighed.

"I'm going to try it again," Chris told them, his eyes glinting with a mixture of fear and excitement behind his glasses.

"Try what again?"

"I'm gonna propose to Ash."

Sam snatched up her bag and phone, Josh following her and Chris out as they made their way down the shady sidewalk. "Where is everybody?"

Chris was already so soaked with sweat, he looked like he'd gotten doused with a fire hose. "They're keeping her busy while I get ready. But I am ready! I mean, I think I am. I don't know. I just need to… to—" He gulped and yanked a crumbled piece of notebook paper out of his pocket along with the ring.

Sam gasped as he quickly flipped open the lid of the velvet box. She had never been a sucker for jewelry, but that was one gorgeous hunk of stone.

Meanwhile, Josh had snatched the paper out of his friend's trembling hands. "What is this, Cochise? Looks older than the Declaration of Independence."

"It's" — defensively, Chris cleared his throat and stole back the paper before Josh could read it— "my speech for Ash. I started writing it a while ago and…"

"Is this what you would write during gym class in tenth grade?" asked Sam.

Josh's eyebrows flew up. " _This_ is the paper that you would never let me look at when I visited you in the locker room? _For real_ , bro?"

Chris stopped and scowled from one to the other. "Yes, for real, _bro_. Just because it's ten years old doesn't mean it isn't any good."

"We never said it was bad, Chris," Sam protested.

Josh slapped his hand against his forehead. "Lord… high school, man. A junior who is friends with a sophomore writing a long-lived love letter for a freshman. That was one crazy world we lived in."

Sam shot him a dirty look. "Give him a break, Joshua."

"Yeah, let's just get on with it already before I faint," Chris mumbled, stalking irritably onward.

They turned the corner, and he almost smacked head-on into Ashley. The others stood in a mischievous line behind her. "Oh! U- uh, Ash, I…" he stammered. He fumbled with the paper, then seemed to give up and let it flutter to the ground like an old leaf in autumn.

"No, wait. Don't just drop it," Ashley insisted, bending to pick it up. As she scanned through the letter, her smile grew wider while both their faces turned deeper shades of crimson. Chris looked like he was about to cry.

"I- I'm sorry, I…"

She shushed him. "Chris, I think this ten-year-old declaration of love is the sweetest thing I've ever had the pleasure of reading."

Chris's back was to Sam and Josh, but she could feel the relief radiate off of him in waves as his shoulders sagged. "… really? But how did you know it was ten—"

"I heard everything," Ashley responded, chuckling. "Now, I want to make this easier on you, since I know nothing has gone as planned the last few days anyway."

"O- okay…"

"My answer is yes."

Chris froze. Sam could almost imagine his head breaking out of solid ice as he glanced in shock over his shoulder at Josh.

Josh grinned at him, hands in his pockets. "You did it, Cochise. Mission accomplished."

Immediately he spun back around. "Yes, you'll marry me?"

"Yes, yes! I will marry you!" Ashley squealed as he scooped her into his arms and spun her around.

Everyone crowded around the couple as Chris slid the ring onto her finger. The moment it was on, everyone finally exhaled and began hollering in celebration, ignoring the puzzled looks from passerby.

"We're engaged!" Chris shouted around the empty parking lot they were standing in. Sam laughed as she imagined the story Chris and Ash would have to tell— _"Yeah, so, we got engaged in a parking lot in the middle of Seattle…"_ Clearly Chris just couldn't wait, but Sam didn't blame him.

"We're engaged!" Ashley returned, her pretty red hair bouncing as Chris pecked her on the lips again and again. "You did get my dad's blessing first, right?"

The cheers died down. Chris arched his brow at her. "Babe, this isn't the 1950s."

Her expression turned dead serious. "Chris."

His groan echoed between the buildings. "Ah, shit…"

* * *

 **Ugh, I really struggled writing this chapter and it ended up taking me ages, so sorry about that. I didn't plan to have Chris and Ash get engaged in Sam's POV, but screw it, I did it anyway. Also hopefully this chapter doesn't sound too weird, since most of it was written very late at night.**

 **Thanks for all the love! I am so happy to see the sudden flood of Until Dawn stories here, yay :)**


	21. All Along

**Hannah**

After the confusing chaos of the last few days, Hannah was drained of all energy. She wanted nothing more than to begin the road trip back home already.

Unfortunately for her, she had approximately five thousand missed calls on her phone— 4,998 from her mother and two from work. Josh and Beth were in the same boat, and the mere thought of speaking to their distressed mother over the phone made Hannah feel even more exhausted. _I'd rather watch Mike profess his love for Jess in detail for twelve hours straight than deal with that hell._

After Chris and Ashley became engaged in the empty parking lot— of all places, it had to be there— the group unevenly split between Hannah's car and two taxis.

"Sis, I think your car might be dragging on the road from all this weight!" Josh's remark was accompanied by an exaggerated groan. He, Sam, and Beth had teamed up to try and close the hatch at the back of the car.

"Aw, don't worry Josh, I'm sure you don't weigh that much," Sam quipped as she leaned all of her weight against the stubborn door.

Hannah rolled her eyes and Beth added, "And if there's not enough room for you in the car, we can always strap you to the roof, Joshua. Might distribute the _weight_ a little more evenly."

Josh shot them a glare. "Alright, alright, ladies. I see that you ate your Witty Flakes for breakfast this morning, now gimme a break."

With one last final push, the trio finally managed to get the hatch shut. When it slammed down, several flecks of rust rained down onto the curb. Sam eyed them uneasily. "Uh, Han, are you sure your car will make it to the airport?"

Hannah sighed and pulled herself into the driver's seat. "Very funny, Sam."

"No, I'm dead serious," her friend insisted as she squeezed into the backseat next to Beth and Josh plopped down beside Hannah up front.

"This car is my baby," Hannah told them as she patted the stained dashboard. "I don't think she's gonna fail us now when she's 230 thousand miles strong."

She turned the key in the ignition, and the little car rumbled to life. Josh sighed, jamming his seatbelt into the buckle after five attempts. "Our parents offered to buy you a new Lexus, but _nooo_..."

Hannah pulled into traffic behind one of the cabs, but not even three seconds later the dashboard began to ring and the entire vehicle commenced shaking. "Who is it?" Hannah asked, squinting through the drizzle.

Josh hit the accept button on the fuzzy screen, and immediately the frantic voice of Melinda Washington crackled through the old speakers.

"Hannah! Hannah, are you there?"

"Yes, Mom, I'm here. Alive and well—"

"Oh my _word_! Hannah Elise Washington, where have you been? Why haven't you answered any of my calls for the past two days? You and your siblings have got your father and I worried sick!"

Josh bit his lip and slouched in his seat. "Beth and I are here too, Mom," he announced.

Silence. Then, " _Joshua_ Robert! What has gotten into you three—"

"Something came up," Beth said, leaning over the console. "Our phones weren't working…"

"We're sorry," Hannah supplied. The windshield wipers squeaked like they were in pain, yet still their mother could be heard clearly over that and the steady thrum of the rain.

Melinda seemed to have calmed down somewhat when she spoke again. "Well, alright. As long as you have some excuse. Just don't _ever_ put your father and I through that again, you understand? We try not to be helicopter parents, but you should really try to call us back when we contact you…"

Hannah exchanged a side glance with her brother. Their parents were far from the definition of "helicopter parents"— in fact, Josh had raised his sisters more than they had. In a way, the three all helped raise each other, and when Sam became a close family friend in seventh grade, that made it all the better. Now that they were adults, it was painfully obvious how much their mother in particular was making an effort to be more involved in her children's lives.

"Yeah, yeah, of course. We're sorry, Mom," Josh replied.

"Are you still in Seattle? How are your friends?"

Josh reached around his armrest and pulled Sam forward. "Yes, actually, we've got Sam here in the car with us."

Sam grinned stiffly at the dashboard. "Hello, Mrs. Wa— Mel."

A while ago, their mother had reiterated to Sam that it was fine for her to just call her Mel. Obviously Sam wasn't completely used to that quite yet, and Hannah didn't blame her. After all, she didn't go around calling Sam's mother Sandy— though, then again, Sandra Giddings was a very different person than Melinda. The two butted heads for years.

"Oh, Sam, dear! It's so wonderful to hear your voice. Are you doing alright?" It was irritating how abruptly their mom's voice became sugary sweet when she spoke to Sam. _Favorites much?_

"I'm doing fine, thanks. Hannah's just driving us to the airport now, and I'll be heading back to Chicago. How about you?" Sam leaned away from the dashboard, sending Josh a death glare and rubbing her shoulder meaningfully where he'd grabbed her.

Melinda's hearty laugh, distorted by the elderly sound system, filled the car. "I'm doing well, now that I know my children are safe and sound. And of course, you're in the car. That explains why it sounds like I'm speaking to you through a tin can. Remember, Hannah, headlights on if it's raining!"

Annoyance heated Hannah's cheeks, and inconspicuously she flicked her lights on.

"Alright, well, I won't keep you all. Safe travels!" After exchanging last goodbyes, Josh hit the end button and visibly relaxed, rubbing his hands over his face.

"I think that's the first time one of her calls has lasted less than two hours," Josh mumbled.

Beth furrowed her brow. "Really? Mine usually last twenty minutes, max."

Josh chuckled. "But I think we all know who Mom's favorite is."

"I _wonder_ ," Beth grumbled.

"Sammy! You've won first place prize. Our mother officially loves you more than her own children," Josh teased, spinning around to smirk at her.

Sam crossed her arms. "Shut your mouth, Washington. It's not my fault that Mother knows best!"

As Hannah eased into a parking space outside an ancient meter, she stole a glance into her rearview mirror. Sam's eyes were ablaze with something that struck Hannah as more than playful teasing. When Josh turned back around in his seat to get out, she noticed how much blood had rushed into his face when he looked at their friend.

His attraction to Sam was old news, of course, but Sam's reaction to him was far different than Hannah remembered. Maybe, after ten years, the spark wasn't one-sided.

They found the others at the main desk in the airport, where Josh purchased all of their last-minute return tickets, to everyone's extreme protest. A few were able to convince him to use their refund money from the tickets they'd failed to use two days earlier.

Hannah shuddered as her eyes weaved between the countless people around her. They milled around, constantly bumping bags or brushing shoulders. Everyone was packed in tight like honeybees in a busy hive. She had never felt more relieved that a long road trip stretched ahead of her rather than a plane ride.

Sooner than she would've liked, it was time for everyone to part ways. Chris and Ashley's impending wedding at least seemed to seal the hope that they'd all see each other again soon.

As they headed toward security, where Hannah and Josh would stay back, Chris and Ashley stopped the group for a moment. The redhead had emerged from the restroom, where she'd finally been able to take out her contacts. She now donned a pair of black-rimmed glasses similar to Hannah's.

"So Chris and I were thinking that we'd like to tie the knot soon," Ashley began.

Chris loosely laced his fingers with hers. "As in, very soon. Like, probably this summer. We've lived together before, and now living six hundred some miles apart has made us realize…"

"… just how much we need each other," she said.

Emily, who was standing next to Hannah, frowned and tilted her head toward Matt so she could whisper dubiously, "Sure she's not just knocked up?"

Hannah bit her tongue so she couldn't chime in, _Nah, Mike and Jess already have_ that _covered._ Just knowing that those two were probably never leaving each other made the scorn bite harder into Hannah's heart. Yet by now the pain was too numb for her to notice it that much.

Meanwhile, Sam stood on the complete other side of the spectrum. She smiled warmly at the couple and murmured, "Aw, you two are so sweet. Congrats!" Hannah forced a grin— they could always rely on Sam to be the kind group mother when she needed to be.

Chris swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bulging. "So for the wedding, we… we definitely want all of you to be a part of it. You know, groomsmen, bridesmaids."

"And the number won't be even, so probably Chris's brother will be one of the groomsmen and he'll find a friend to take the other place," Ashley explained. Hannah had never seen the girl more excited: her cheeks were rosy even in the drafty hallway of the airport, and her eyes glinted with a green fire behind the plastic lenses.

Mike did a double take. "Wow, thanks… but are you sure? It'll be pretty expensive…"

Chris grinned at him. "Hey, we never said _we_ were the ones paying for your dresses and tux rentals," he pointed out playfully.

Everyone bade their final goodbyes. Chris threw his arm around his fiancée and entered the endless line. Matt and Emily followed.

Sam gave Mike and Jess big bear hugs. When she leaned away from Jess, she squeezed her hands and smiled. "If I don't see you guys sooner, you've gotta send ultrasound pics, okay?"

Immediately both of their faces reddened. "Sam, come on. You don't really care about that stuff," Mike mumbled, shyly scratching the back of his head. His arm was wrapped around Jessica's slim waist. Whatever they'd been arguing about earlier was long forgotten.

"Are you kidding?" Sam snorted. "Look at you two! You'll have the most adorable freakin' kid. Besides, we're all friends again, aren't we? Now do I have your promise?"

Jessica smirked. "Of course," she promised. There was such a thrilled look on her face that was poorly disguised. Mike was ridiculously happy too, no matter how much he tried to conceal it behind a mask of nonchalance.

Hannah stared at the two as they joined the line behind the others. Mike's hand was playing with a curl of her soft blonde hair, which she must've taken out of the braid on the way there.

Hannah felt her hand move to touch her own dark hair. It hadn't been washed in days, and it was like brown straw between her fingers. Jessica's locks looked like silk. _It's not fair._

She tried to swallow around the lump in her throat, but was caught off-guard when Sam threw her arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace.

It took Hannah a moment for her to return the gesture. She had to remind herself the kind of person Sam was: the peacemaker, the one everyone get along with. Maybe her best friend didn't even realize how much Hannah still longed for Mike.

Gradually, Hannah wrapped her arms around Sam, grinning sadly into her shoulder. "I'll miss you," she whispered.

"I'll miss you too, hun. Keep in touch, alright? Texting, calls, Skype, whatever works best." Sam broke away and shifted her bag further up on her shoulder. "Oh! I almost forgot."

From the side pocket of her bag she pulled out the last stick of gum from the pack she'd bought on the first day of the trip. "To us," Sam proclaimed, raising the gum high like it was a glass during a toast. She proceeded to tear the piece in half, popping one in her mouth and handing the other to Hannah.

"To us," Hannah replied softly, watching as Sam turned around and headed toward the line. She did glance back over her shoulder one last time as she spoke her goodbyes to Josh and Beth. Her gaze lingered on Josh, and Hannah could've sworn she saw her friend mouth the same words to him.

 _"To us."_

Beth was already heading over to her sister, and Josh joined soon after, looking as if he'd just been kissed by an angel.

"Well… I guess this is it," Beth sighed, stretching her arms wide and holding her siblings close. "I love you guys. Just remember that we'll see— oh my god."

Her sugary sweet tone— which was extremely rare to hear from Beth— was gone in an instant. She tore away from Josh and Hannah quickly, taking a few strands of the latter's hair along with her.

"Ow," Hannah muttered, rubbing her scalp. "Where are you going?"

Rage flamed in Josh's eyes, and he began to stalk towards the same thing Beth was. They looked like angry tigers hunting down prey.

"Woah, woah, hold up, _bro_ ," Beth said, blocking his path. "You've done quite enough to Daniel, alright? I know it was you who gave him the bruise on his chin."

At last Hannah was able to pick out Daniel from the line of people sitting at one of the bars a few yards away. He was hunched over a glass with only a sip or two of amber liquid left in it. His sandy hair looked like a pigeon had made a home in it, and purplish circles dragged at his eyelids.

"But he ditched all of us, Beth— he ditched _you_ when we were getting kidnapped by that maniac Gray. How can you possibly stoop low enough to _defend_ him?" Josh's words were a mere hiss between his gritted teeth.

"Trust me, I'm not happy with him at all. I'm just going over to end it with him," Beth explained impatiently. "I'll take Hannah with me, but you stay back here, okay?"

The corner of Josh's mouth twitched.

" _Okay_?"

He groaned, lifting his hands in surrender. "Fine, but if I see him get an inch too close to you…"

He trailed off at Beth's glare, and before he could say any more, she had dumped her things at Josh's feet and grabbed Hannah's wrist to drag her sister toward the bar.

"Wow, he looks fantastic," Hannah joked, but Beth wasn't paying her a single fragment of attention. _Why the hell did she even bring me over?_

Daniel looked up as they arrived, and his disheveled frown transformed into a bitter sneer. "Helloooo, ladies. Why'd you bring your twin, Beth? Need backup to kick my sorry little ass?"

"None of your damn business why she's here," Beth grumbled.

"God, ugh, you know, I honestly have no clue who I'm even talking to right now. Which one are ya?" Daniel's bloodshot eyes flicked lazily from one girl to the other.

Hannah arched a brow and exchanged contemptuous glances with her sister. She and Beth hardly looked alike— in fact, the way they were dressed right now, they couldn't be more different. Hannah had longer, wavy hair and wore jeans and a frilly blouse that showed off her tattoo. Not to mention the glasses.

Beth, on the other hand, had side swept bangs and hair only a little past her shoulders. Not to mention the absence of glasses. Furiously, she crossed her arms over her loose sweater. "Are you kidding me? You know what… not even gonna bother. Just came over here to let you know that we're through. It was such a _delight_ to hear how quickly you ran off when that crazy cop captured us. When I get back home I'm taking all of your shit out of the apartment and dumping it on the curb."

Hannah watched her sister's defiant posture with a mixture of awe and bewilderment. _I might as well be useful somehow_ , she decided, also folding her arms over her ribs and leaning toward him.

"Alright. Alright, that's chill with me, Beth. So I guess… now that we're _through_ … you can finally hook up with that one friend you were always talking about?" Daniel cocked his head, showing off a devilish beam that only enhanced his drunkenness.

Hannah noticed Beth stiffen a little, though she still maintained her solid stance. "What are you talking about?" she demanded.

Daniel's eyes rolled back in his head, and his upper torso fell forward onto the counter, resulting in people sitting near him to shift further away. He rested his head on one arm, letting it loll back and forth lazily. "Oh, you know… the one who's perpetually single? I asked about her for you babe… but your brother doesn't s- seem… _interested_. Augh, what was… what was her name again?"

 _Her?_ Hannah had to make sure her jaw wasn't hanging open in shock. Beth's arms fell, and her face flushed pink slightly. "… um, it— it doesn't matter. Just— just come home, get your shit and leave, alright?"

Before another alcohol-infused word could leave his mouth, she'd spun around and stormed out of the bar, leaving Hannah no choice but to trail her like a timid servant following an upset king.

Josh was still standing in the distance, and he looked about ready to come over. The second he took a step toward them, however, Hannah figured it was best for him to not intervene, and shook her head firmly at him.

Beth picked up the pace until she was running full speed across a very busy airport. Hannah's athletic sister was exceptionally skilled at dodging people and suitcases, but Hannah herself had a bit more trouble. She ended up almost crashing into two signs and nearly tripping over a seeing-eye dog.

By the time she'd finally found her sister in a shocking empty bathroom, she was breathless and had to lean against the sink for a minute to catch her breath.

Beth shot her an annoyed look. "Christ, Han. You play tennis, it's not like you've never ran before."

"Yes, but," Hannah replied between heavy pants. "Surprisingly, tennis is not the same thing as Olympic sprinting."

Silence stretched between them for a few minutes, until Beth mumbled miserably, "… he's such a goddamn lightweight with that beer. Always was, always will be. It's… it's a good thing I ended it. Right?"

Hannah lifted her eyebrows, gazing at her twin in disbelief. Just with that one word— _right?_ — Beth had actually asked for Hannah's advice. For once in their lives, she wanted to know if she was doing the right thing, instead of charging head-on into situations she had no experience dealing with.

Flattered, Hannah bit her lip and let her fingers play with a loose strand of hair. "Um, of course. He was an asshole. It's a good thing you let him go." She almost had it perfect; she thought she was able to control herself. Yet the question escaped her lips with a severity even she wasn't expecting. "But what was he talking about?"

"Oh." Air rushed out of Beth's lungs as she exhaled. She had her boarding pass in her hands, all wrinkled from being shoved into her windbreaker pocket. "Well, I need many, many hours to explain this to you, but since I only have thirty minutes, I might as well sum it up really quick," she began.

"Okay…?" Hannah prompted.

Beth stared down at the sink and placed her hands on either side of it, drumming her fingernails on the white porcelain. "I… I kinda had, or have, or— ugh, whatever. I was kinda into Sam a bit."

Hannah clasped her hands together. _Holy shit._ "You mean— romantically?"

But Beth didn't have to answer for her to know. When Hannah dived into her mind, all of the memories from all the years they'd known Sam, it suddenly made sense. The way Beth would always hole herself up in her room when Sam came over. The way when, when she was cornered by them and had no choice but to interact, Beth always blushed and smiled kindly at Sam. The way she gradually learned to integrate herself into Hannah and Sam's close friendship. The way her eyes sparked with excitement whenever the group played spin the bottle in the lodge on freezing winter nights, the way she could shove herself into a really deep, dark mood when the bottle never pointed to Sam. All of the clues were right there in front of Hannah, but she'd never really given it a second thought. Or had she?

"I think…" Beth heaved a sigh. "I mean, I still like guys too. But when I met Sam the first time, I felt so weird— you know, first-time jitters when you meet someone new. But with her, they never really went away. I ended up asking Mom one of the rare times she was around what these feelings were, and I guess she assumed I was talking about some guy and she was all sappy and…"

"What did she say?"

"She said it was… it was love. And I freaked out, you know? I had always assured myself I was straight! There was no way I could like someone of the same gender, let alone my sister's best friend. I forced myself to date only guys, and that worked for me for a while… until college. I experimented with a few girls there and— and I knew."

All of the remaining air rushed out of her parted lips, like the last few pockets of helium from a deflated balloon. Hannah was standing rigid, and she couldn't seem to oil the rust on her joints until at long last, her sister said it.

"Hannah, I'm bisexual."

Without a second thought, Hannah rushed into her sister's arms, colliding into her with much force and squeezing her tight. "Thanks for telling me," she whispered into Beth's hair. It took just a second for her to return the hug.

There they stood, all alone in an airport bathroom, with one light flickering above their heads and one of the tiles under their feet loose. They didn't even notice when a bewildered woman stepped inside and entered a stall.

Hannah was smiling so hard her cheeks hurt. She chose not to tell Beth that, in a way, she kind of knew all along.

* * *

 **Yes! A rare Hannah chapter! I hope you all enjoyed it. I am really sorry, but I am about to rush out of my house now to the airport and had absolutely no time to proofread the last half. I'll have to get to it later and edit it as needed.**

 **I just have to say that I am SO happy about all of the love you guys have been giving this! Some of my favorite authors in this community have actually taken the time to look at my story and even review it, and it just makes my day to see you all sending your love. Thank you all so much!**


	22. Crazy

**San Francisco**

There Chris was, back in his apartment in California. Everything was just the way he'd left it, excluding the thin layer of dust that had settled after a week of not being disturbed. _I am_ so _sick of dust, damn it._

So, for the first time in his life, Chris willingly yanked the feather duster out of the closet and swiped it over every nook and cranny, over the top of each bookshelf, over the computer monitor, across the kitchen counter.

After that he sat down at his desk chair and spun around dazedly, trying to ignore the tall pile of luggage and various Seattle souvenirs he'd left stacked against the front door. He didn't feel like dealing with that just yet.

He could feel the stab of hunger in his stomach— a pack of airline peanuts wouldn't even satisfy a fly's appetite— but, just like the mess on the floor, he turned his cheek on it.

He was so _alone_. But then an idea popped into his head. Lunging for his printer, he grabbed a sheet of paper and trimmed a corner off of it with scissors. As nimbly as he could, he fashioned the scrap so that it vaguely took the shape of a ring. Slipping it onto the appropriate finger, he rolled his eyes. It was so stupid, but in a way it solidified what was coming. He was marrying Ashley Brown, the girl who he'd only been dreaming about since tenth grade.

There was only one obstacle that sat in his way, a grumpy bulldog with no plans to make the first move.

Her father.

Ash had always held a frayed relationship with her father. Both of them really struggled in completely opposite ways after her mother died when she was eleven. God, Chris wished he had been there for her then.

She withdrew from the world, building a wall around herself. She retracted like a shy turtle into its shell. On the other hand, her father established a fiery, verbally abusive temper. He could easily send his unstable only child into hysterics with his name-calling. More than once, he came close to hitting her.

And yet, she wanted him at their wedding. Chris couldn't quite wrap his mind around it; maybe she thought he would be fine now, since the two of them seemed to be getting along at the moment. Then again, introducing her father to an environment with alcohol would just be adding more gasoline to his unquenchable fire.

So it was only natural for Chris to be freaking out about receiving her father's blessing. He understood why Ashley thought it necessary, but at the same time it made him want to hide in his own shell. It made him want to crawl into a ditch and never come back out.

He extracted his shiny new phone from his pocket, but the device was like a rapidly melting stick of butter in his sweaty hand. It nearly crashed to the floor, but Chris caught it with a wince. It was a miracle Samsung had been able to replace it so fast, and he was not about to destroy the replacement phone within the first five minutes of owning it.

He scrolled through his contacts list— thank god he'd written everything down— and selected Richard Brown.

 _Ring._

"Shit," he breathed.

 _Ring._

"M- maybe I should—"

 _Ring._

"I'll just leave a message, and get back to him later—"

 _Ri—_ "Hello?"

Oh, no. "U- uh, Mr. Brown? It's Chris."

"Hello, Chris. Is something the matter?" Richard's sturdy voice boomed into Chris's ear, as if he were standing right beside him. A shudder rippled down his spine.

"No, actually, everything's great. I was calling to ask you something…"

"Go on," he prompted.

Chris swallowed a string of swear words and forced much cleaner vocabulary off his tongue. "Sir, I would like to ask for your blessing… for me to marry… your daughter."

He cringed. It sounded so robotic, so unnatural for his mouth to form the syllables. He meant it with all of his being, but delivering it in this way was just too strange.

"You want to marry Ashley?"

"Yes."

"Well, that's… very nice of you to ask me ahead of time, son."

Chris tried not to snort. _Ahead of time. Whoops._

Richard sighed. "I suppose it wouldn't be horrible if you're the man who becomes my son-in-law. You've got my blessing, Chris. You're a good man, and I know you'll treat her—" He stopped short, and Chris leaned forward in anticipation even though the older man couldn't see him.

"Pardon, sir?" Chris asked.

"You'll, well… you'll treat her better than I ever did," Richard admitted with a hint of resignation in his tone. He sounded so flattened, Chris almost felt some sympathy for him.

"T- thank you—"

"And Chris. You can just call me Rich, alright?" The line cut off as he abruptly hung up, and the mind-numbing tone blared in Chris's ear.

Chris hit the red _end call_ button and set his phone on the desk. His fingers moved to mess with the paper ring on his left hand, and the smile on his face stayed until the second he drifted asleep hours later.

 **Pittsburgh**

Jess was in the corner of a waiting room, her fingers drumming against the armrest of her chair. Next to her was a table blanketed with various flashy fashion and gossip magazines. Normally these would capture her attention for hours at a time as she savored every single detail, every tidbit of info. It was something to distract her from where she was.

She detested doctor's offices even more than the dentist. There was something about all of the people who were there for so many different reasons, few of them good, that put her on edge. All of the anxiety hung thick in the air and made it hard for her to breathe. Jess wanted nothing more than to sprint out to her car and drive far, far away from the sterile white walls.

And besides, this wasn't any normal visit. Her mind was only on one thing, and that was definitely not what the Kardashians were up to.

"Jessica Riley?"

She got to her feet and shuffled through a few hallways behind the nurse. At last they came upon a room, and then she sat some more, waiting and alone and terrified. Her eyes remained glued to the white linoleum under her feet.

After a century or two, the doctor entered, a gentle smile perched on her face. Jess plastered a friendly grin on as well, in a futile effort to make herself at least feel a bit better.

"So what were you concerned about today?"

Jess gripped her knees. The words were lodged in her throat like a piece of grisly meat. She wasn't sure whether to swallow them or cough them up.

"I… I was visiting friends in Seattle this past week," she murmured, clearing her throat for good measure. "I've been feeling very achy and tired lately, and then while I was there I started throwing up almost everything I ate. I was thinking maybe I was… well, you know. I took a pregnancy test and it was positive."

The doctor's pen glided over her clipboard, and Jessica's nerves bounced under her skin. "This was last week, you said?"

"Yes. I just wanted to make sure and…" Jess couldn't finish. Struck silent, she could only stare at the doctor with eyes like twin moons.

"Well." She blinked kindly at her. "Usually those tests are pretty accurate, though there are a few ways we can confirm it. I can perform a blood test, or do a quick ultrasound—"

"Let's do that," Jess interrupted, rising stiffly to her feet.

A few minutes later, she was on a kind of table in a different room with the doctor and a technician. Jess could feel her face was on fire, but there was nothing she could do about it now.

They instructed her to lift her shirt up, and she obliged, rolling it up to expose her lower stomach. The technician didn't even hesitate in rubbing cold gel all over her skin, and she winced. Right away she longed for Mike to be sitting right next to her, cupping her hand in his and immersing her in his warmth.

Then the technician proceeded to rub a small tool over the gelled area, and she had to stifle a laugh because it tickled.

A steady beat crackled from the monitor, bringing the pasty white room to life. The doctor's eyes were trained on the screen, and Jess dragged her gaze towards it as well.

"Ah, there you go," the technician announced, beaming at her. "It looks like you're about eleven weeks along. Congratulations!"

The shock that consumed Jess at that moment was indescribable. All of her worries were dissolved by the wave of joy that made every inch of her body fizz excitedly.

She stared down at the black and white image in her hands and realized that she'd never before been this much in love.

The entire drive home was spent in a daze, and once she'd climbed the stairs to the top floor of the shared house, Jess lounged on the couch and gazed nonstop at the picture.

Mike came home from the store ten minutes later, bursting through the door with five grocery bags balanced on both arms. He placed them on the counter, and the crinkling plastic shattered her peaceful daydreaming.

Jess slid into the kitchen on socked feet, a pleasantly pink blush coloring her cheeks. "Mike," she murmured, sneaking up and hugging him from behind.

"Light of my life," he greeted her, spinning around in her arms. "What's…" His voice faltered as his eyes landed on the glossy paper in her hand.

She couldn't help the tears that gathered in her eyes as she leaned against him, holding the grainy image in front of them.

"That's our baby," he whispered, his breath a gentle puff on her neck. A few seconds, then Mike's voice climbed to a higher volume as he clutched the picture in his hands. "That's our kid!"

He hugged the picture to his chest before setting it on the counter so he could scoop her into his arms and spin around the kitchen.

She giggled as he set her back down, her toes curling against the hardwood. "I never imagined you'd be so…" She couldn't choose the right word to describe the look on his face.

"Thrilled? Because trust me, I'm thrilled." Mike leaned back slightly, locking his steamy brown eyes with her misty gray. "This calls for a celebration."

Jess tilted her head and lifted one eyebrow. "And what kind of celebration might that be?"

Mike picked up the ultrasound picture and stuck it to the fridge with a magnet. He was so lost in it for a moment, his jaw ajar, that he seemed to have misplaced his train of thought.

Just when she was about to speak up, he whirled around and touched his lips to hers. They were like one person as, step by step, they inched towards their room.

It was spontaneous. It was beautiful. It was straight out of a Nicholas Sparks movie until Mike veered away with a frown. "Wait, wait. Gotta put the milk in the fridge. Don't want it to spoil, ya know?" He dashed back into the kitchen for a moment while she stood, a glowing, patient statue.

And then he returned, more forcefully this time, but it pleased her nonetheless. He half carried her, half nudged her all the way to the bed. They crashed onto the patterned comforter, the mattress squeaking in protest of the sudden weight.

She would never admit it out loud, but truthfully most of the time when they had sex it was under the influence of alcohol. It was the kind of drunk that made them dizzy in love, their hands slipping and sliding on each other's bodies and their mouths sloppily, desperately trying to find any patch of skin.

Making out with Mike while both of them were sober was different, and she was infatuated with it. It felt more real in a way, and her heart sped up when she realized that this time, she'd remember what they did when she woke up the next morning.

But then she noticed a heaviness in her lower body, and she groaned, rolling off of him. "Stay right there. I have to pee."

He was too out of breath to object, and a burst of adrenaline sent her speeding like a racecar to the bathroom. After she was finished, she washed her hands and stared at herself in the mirror.

Her makeup had held up remarkably well considering what she'd just been doing, and yet enough of it had worn off for her to barely be able to see the damage from that night on her face.

She stretched one trembling hand toward her makeup bag. Mike had seen her countless times without makeup on, of course, but she wanted to look nice for him right then.

Before she could brush extra foundation over her cheek, Mike's voice leaked through the crack in the door. "If you're doing what I think you're doing, Jess, then stop it. You don't need makeup to be beautiful."

It was insane, how easily she turned to putty in his hands when he spat out phrases like that. Maybe it was an insult to other girls, when a guy insisted she looked fine without makeup. But when he said it to Jess, it made her weak.

They both knew each other's kryptonite. _Two can play at that game._

So she retracted her hand, dropping the makeup back in the bag, unraveling her hair from the messy ponytail she had it in, and fluffing it out. Then her fingers traveled up her back and unclasped her bra, letting it fall onto the bathmat.

She threw the door back open, pouncing onto him and returning to the bed. He flipped her over so she was under him and they resumed kissing.

Heat burned between their bodies, and they melted into each other, sliding under the covers effortlessly as shirts and jeans slipped to the floor.

It was three in the afternoon, so it lasted maybe five minutes, but it was exhilarating all the same. She didn't want to let go of him, and he seemed to feel the same way, so they cuddled closer in the tangle of blankets.

His lips traced the ragged indentations in her chest, and he worked his way up until his breath warmed her cheek. They shared the same pillow, peering at each other with equally strong fondness.

"This is crazy." Mike's words rushed out in a breathless exhale.

She knew what he was talking about. Instinctively her hand rested on her flat stomach. "Good crazy or bad crazy?"

He raised his eyebrows at her, a sexy smirk painted onto his stubble-covered face. "I guess we'll have to see, hm?" And he moved his hand so it rested on top of hers.

Her heart was a jackhammer.

 **Seattle**

In the break room in the back of a Target, Josh was slouched in a hard red plastic chair. Truthfully, it felt like he was sitting with his backbone pressed against a boulder— it was ridiculously uncomfortable.

It'd been roughly a week since the others had departed, and he was deeper in the dumps than usual. After that unusual week, it was tougher for him to acclimate to how his life was before he saw them again. Before he kissed Sam.

It was mostly the same old shit again. Coming in at six thirty to mop the floors. Manning a checkout counter from eight to eleven thirty. Eating a soggy tuna sandwich from eleven thirty to twelve. Restocking shelves from twelve to four. Mopping the floors from four to five. Technically that was when his shift ended, but there was always something else the floor manager needed him to do. That activity tended to take him until seven thirty or later.

Josh groaned as he opened his lunch bag, the Velcro ripping at an unbelievably high volume. _Sounds like my lunch box from third grade is back from the dead._ Out from it he pulled the notorious fish sandwich, along with a baggie of carrot sticks and a container of cheez-its.

"This is as nutritious as it gets," he muttered, bringing the mayo-sodden sandwich to his mouth.

As he chewed, he reminded himself that just because he was back in his old routine, that didn't mean everything had to be dull. And when he thought of Sam, nothing could be dull. Even if he was sitting in the dullest of places— an alleyway in Detroit between two garbage cans on an overcast day, for example— as long as she was on his mind, he would be fine. Happy, even, if that was a real thing to be.

He wondered what exactly him and her were. Were they a "thing?" Just like their high school days, if someone noticed two people acting closer than usual, the natural question to be asked next was "So, are you two a _thing_?"

Were he and Sam _together_? Dating? The mere possibility of this made his cheeks burn red like molten lava.

A newspaper was spread in the center of the table, and he dragged it over in front of him, scanning over the inked words with only mild interest. He stuck a few crackers in his mouth, and they crunched between his teeth. He was on a page detailing crime reports, with various black and white mugshots frowning up at him.

One in particular caught his eye. Was that who he thought it was? His jaw froze mid-chew as he read.

David Gray, 47, of lower Seattle was convicted on charges of kidnapping Thursday before Judge John Fiddler. He is currently being held without bail in King County Prison.

 _So John's a cop_ and _a judge? Not too shabby._

Gray had done a few other things besides kidnapping, but just knowing he was going to sit twiddling his thumbs in a jail cell for a while was comforting to Josh. _Works for me._

It took him a second or two to realize that he was no longer alone in the breakroom.

"Hey, sweet cheeks."

Out of the corner of his eye, Josh glimpsed a spray-tanned hand with blood red painted nails that looked strangely sharpened into claws. He hid a grimace behind his fingers as he glanced up to see Brenda, of all people.

"Well don't just look at me like that! We've got that special _bond_ now. Am I right or am I right?" She leaned down, purposely displaying her cleavage for him to see.

He chose instead to stare at the Snapple bottle in his hands. "I didn't even know you could wear shirts that low cut here."

She shrugged. "As long as the shirt's red, Ryan doesn't care. He's a horny twenty-seven-year-old, I think he likes what he sees here anyway," Brenda replied, gesturing to her large bust.

Josh snorted and rolled his eyes. "I don't even know how that dumbass got promoted to manager already when I've been working here a full year longer than him. And we're almost the same freakin' age."

"Alright, alright, enough with the gossip. What do you say we—"

"No, Brenda. That was just a one-time thing in January. It's a miracle we still have our jobs after what we did, anyways." Josh made sure the finality in his tone was clear as he added, "And I've met someone."

Her eyes grew huge. " _Whaaat_? Well, well. Tell me all about this someone."

Josh chewed on his lip, suddenly feeling bashful as Sam popped into his head again. The green shards in her eyes, the sweet taste of her lips. _Oh, jeez._ "Actually, I've, uh, known her a long time. She was my sister's best friend and then she kissed me and now I guess we're kind of…"

"… a thing?" Brenda finished.

His head bobbed up and down more eagerly than he would've liked. "Y- yeah, I guess we are kinda a thing."

His coworker's bangles jingled as she stood from the table. "She'll have to visit us here sometime soon. I bet if she's with you she's real eye candy, hmm?"

 _You bet your artificial ass she is._ "I mean, she lives in Chicago, but… maybe she could come to Seattle again. You never know."

Later that night, Josh was walking out to his car in the deserted parking lot. The lamps glared down at him, the light they provided hazy through the mist. The rest of that day he had repeatedly taken his phone out and tried to text Sam, but every time he would put it back in his pocket, convincing himself she was probably busy.

So he got into his car and hit the push button to start it. The engine roared to life, but he didn't even hear the music that poured from the speakers or notice that heat that blasted in his face. He could only stare down at his phone, at the group picture the ten of them had taken a few days into their visit, before Gray stepped into their lives and turned them a little upside down. He leaned back in the soft leather seat, ignoring the squeal of his wipers against the windshield, and gazed at one person in particular.

Little did he know that halfway across the country, a young woman with green specks in her eyes and wavy blonde hair and lips that tasted like sweet summer berries was laying on the couch in her apartment doing the exact same thing.

* * *

 **Okay, there was so much sappy romance in this chapter even I almost couldn't take it. Thanks for all the love, guys! Hope you liked this one.**


	23. Guilt

**Pittsburgh**

Despite how he looked on the outside, and how he said he felt, what Mike truthfully felt deep down was some kind of nail-biting terror.

His hand clenched the handle of the fridge. His eyes were glued to the ultrasound picture that stared him down from its place among a few other pictures and magnets on the stainless steel. It almost seemed to be challenging him with a ruthless, unbelieving sneer.

Of course Mike was overjoyed about the whole thing— how could he not be? Although he had never really discussed it with anyone, not even Jess, he did always imagine himself one day having children. It was a vague little scene in the back of his mind, one that usually involved him playing catch with a little boy.

But now that it was a reality, it was like the fragile little snow globe that contained that scene was smashed by the hammer of life. Whenever Mike's eyes rested on that ultrasound picture, he felt like he was walking on shards of broken glass.

This was _real_. No more joking around.

Gulping, he yanked the coffee creamer out of the fridge, casting his gaze downward in order to avoid the black and white image. Dumping more than he'd intended into his steaming coffee, he practically threw the container back in the fridge.

He stirred the white dollop into his to-go cup before fastening the lid on it. He had to get away, just for a bit.

Mike almost called out a goodbye to Jess before he stepped out the door until he realized that she wasn't there. Ever since the store she'd been working at closed in February, she had been struggling to find a better job. After all, she had a college degree, and they both agreed she might as well find something that better utilized it. A little while ago, she finally had secured a job interview, and that was where she was at now.

So instead of foolishly yelling farewell, he sent her a good luck text as he walked out to his car.

He dropped his coffee cup into a cup holder before climbing into the driver's seat of his car. It was an electric blue Mazda 3 that wasn't too new but wasn't too old either.

Mike didn't really care much about the make and model of a car, so long as it got him from Point A to Point B. Jess always complained that it was too small, though her Hyundai wasn't much better size wise. Mike usually didn't have the willpower to argue this, anyway.

As he coasted out of the neighborhood and turned onto the highway, Mike tried to think of someplace to go. Somewhere he could "collect his thoughts." It was a phrase his mother had always used, usually when he became overwhelmed by schoolwork and student government duties. He never really liked the phrase because he had too many thoughts to be able to collect them all.

Mike was the kid in middle school who never studied and still got As or Bs on tests. Then all of a sudden he was hit by the high school train, and his grades dipped to the point of him even failing math. It had taken excessive tutoring from Emily and Chris to get him back on track.

And although his mom annoyed him a lot during his teenage years, Mike would still readily admit how much he loved her. After all, she was the only parent in the picture. Growing up, Mike saw his dad maybe once or twice a year if he was lucky. The man had never worked a day in his life after he won the lottery when Mike was five.

He breezed out of his only child's life and into the world of constant parties, strippers, and mansions with five-car garages to hold each of his Mercedes-Benzes. While his wallet was happy and fat like a pig in a mud puddle, Mike and his mother could barely rub two pennies together. It was a genuine treat when his father's child support checks came in.

It was two years after the night on the mountain when Mike's mother developed breast cancer. Her fight was hopeless from the start.

Mike, sometimes joined by Jess, would spend many nights at the side of her hospital bed. Mike figured it was safe to assume he would never see his father again— they'd lost contact once Mike turned eighteen and the child support checks were no longer required.

But he still had the memory in his mind, completely crystal-clear, of the day he ran into his father at the hospital a few weeks before she died.

Mike and Jess were leaving the hospital, heading down in the elevator. They were both too dumbfounded and upset at how frail his mother was to even speak. So instead they held hands, and she leaned her head against his arm, her soft hair tickling his skin like a feather.

And then the elevator doors opened and there stood his father, with a bouquet of flowers from the hospital gift shop and a more wizened look about him. His hair, which was the same color as his son's when he was younger, had now mostly faded into a wispy silver. He had a stubbly beard peppered with white and gray, along with two worried brown eyes.

 _"Jesus,"_ he muttered. _"Michael—"_

 _"Dad,"_ Mike greeted him stiffly. He closed his fingers tighter around Jessica's.

They hadn't seen each other at all in the three years since Mike became a legal adult. His father had no idea of the hell Mike had been through. He didn't even notice his son was missing two fingers.

 _"How, uh… how are you doing?"_

Mike's shoulders lifted up and then dropped limply, as if they were suspended on puppet strings. _"Could be better. You?"_

The flowers seemed to droop in his hands. _"Yeah, same here. How is she?"_

Mike was too busy trying to mask his astonishment at seeing him here to give him a sufficient answer. _"Uh, I guess you'll see for yourself in a few minutes."_

Silence stretched between them for a few moments, and Mike wasn't sure if the pounding in his ears was from his heart beating or his frayed nerves.

People were gathering behind his father waiting to board the elevator, so Mike and Jess stepped out of it to make room. Mike's dad eyed Jess up and down. _"So… who's this?"_ he asked. Mike felt irritation bubble up within him; his father was paying her more attention than he would've liked.

 _"I'm Jessica, Mike's girlfriend,"_ Jess introduced herself. Tentatively she shook his hand, and still he wouldn't take his eyes off of her.

Mike gritted his teeth. He was sizing her up like a piece of meat, like another one of his prostitutes. _"Nice to meet you, Jessica,"_ the elder Michael Munroe replied.

And that was that. After one final nod, he went up in the elevator while Mike and Jess walked out to the car in stunned silence.

They saw him again a few weeks later at the funeral. It was the same painful awkwardness that made Mike wish he could turn invisible. Why, god, did he have to be the parent Mike was left with?

Back in present day, Mike was still driving aimlessly along the turnpike. All of this thinking about his father had him wondering something. _He's the only parent I've got left. I might as well try to give him a call._

He took the next exit, which sent him down a long, twisting country lane with a few bumps and potholes. Browned cornfields rolled away from the neglected asphalt, broken only by the occasional far-off farmhouse— classic rural Pennsylvania.

Mike knew exactly where he was. Taking one last turn, the small blue sedan rolled down an even narrower road, gravel crunching under the tires.

Finally, it came to a dead end, and Mike got out with his still-warm coffee in hand.

He was at his secret place, somewhere even Jess had never been to. It was a very tall hill that veered off abruptly almost like the edge of a cliff. Beyond it, far below, was the city of Pittsburgh painted in various shades of gray.

Mike settled down on a plush patch of grass and took a long sip of coffee. He surveyed the impressive view for a short while before pulling out his phone. Jess hadn't texted him back yet— must be a long interview.

He scrolled through his contacts until he came upon his father's name. Mike hated that they shared the same name, but at the same time he couldn't really stand to call him "Dad" more than he needed to, so he had settled for "Mike Sr."

He hit the button to call him. It rang once, twice. The third ring was cut off by a warm and cheery "Hello?"

"Hey." Mike suppressed a sigh. "It's Mike."

"Oh, hello, Mike. Is everything okay?"

Mike wasn't sure how to answer that question. He lay down on his back, and the grass teasingly stroked his cheek. It reminded him of Jessica's hair. "Everything's, um, fine, I guess. I just wanted to call you, you know, to see what was new with you."

His father didn't respond at first. Mike could almost hear the gears turning in his head. "Well, it's— it's good to hear from you again. I guess there's nothing much new with me. I traded in my silver Benz for a red one. Hmm… oh yes, and I downsized a couple months ago to a five bedroom, three-and-a-half bath place."

Mike tried not to groan. Maybe he didn't even realize how annoying his boasting was. "Nice, nice," he mumbled. Wind whispered over his face, blowing a few dead leaves left over from last fall in his direction. "I actually have some big news." He blurted out the sentence sooner than he'd meant to. _Shit._

"Yes?"

The line was dead quiet. Even the breeze had diminished, as if it too was waiting for him to speak. Mike covered his face with his hand and attempted to swallow around the lump in his throat. "Do you… remember my girlfriend who you met at the hospital four years ago? Jess?"

"Oh." His father's voice adopted a syrupy tone. "Yes, I definitely remember her."

 _Ugh. Never thought I'd have my father swooning over my girlfriend_. Banishing the thought to the rear of his mind, Mike went on, "Right. Well, she's pregnant."

A moment of hesitation. Then, at the same time Mike said "I'm going to be a father" his dad exclaimed "I'm going to be a grandpa!"

"Congratulations, son!"

"Thanks," Mike answered flatly. Some excitement stirred around in his stomach a little, but it didn't come out in his words. "But we need to talk about something." Pause. "Dad, why— why did you leave Mom and I?"

A resounding sigh crackled into Mike's ear. "Michael, you know I—"

"What's the _real_ reason? I mean, why couldn't we be part of your new and improved life?"

"… I never expected to become a wealthy man," his father said softly. "I knew I was going to be exposed to a lot of people really fast, on the news outlets and such. I didn't want a five-year-old to get caught up in all that. And you know that since your mother and I never married, we didn't have that bond holding us together. It was easier for me to just… _leave_."

"Oh…"

"I didn't want you to live a life full of, well, fake happiness, Mike. It is such an overused cliché, but it's true that money doesn't buy happiness. My big house felt so empty when I was alone. All of those unoccupied rooms and unused hallways… but by the time I was beginning to regret my decision, I thought it was too late. At that point, I'd been mostly out of your life for too long. It would be difficult for you to accustom to having me around again."

Mike gazed at the sky. Fluffy clouds tinged with stormy gray drifted over the blue backdrop. An overeager moon flashed its face between two clouds. "I would've been able…" he whispered. "It doesn't matter now, anyway. But thank you for telling me."

"Of course."

He squeezed his eyes shut. The heat from his phone burned his ear and launched him into a cold sweat. The next question was far too daunting to ask. "Look, I- I'm scared of becoming a father. If I'm being perfectly honest here, I… don't want to do what you did to Mom and me. I don't want to, like, panic and just walk out on Jess and…" His throat closed up. He couldn't even bring himself to say it.

"Hey, you listen to me, Mike," the older Munroe said sternly. "I know you had a tough life growing up; no one knows that better than you do. I also know I made a mistake leaving you and your mother. And if I know you at all, then I think you have a decent enough head on your shoulders to not do the dumbass thing I did."

"But what if—"

"Mike. Do you love this woman?"

Mike didn't even hesitate. There was zero doubt in his mind. "Yes. A lot."

The wind picked up again, rustling through the nearby trees. The clouds increased the pace of their trek across the sky. The next question came careful and steady. "Do you love her enough to raise a kid with her?"

Mike thought back to the perfect little scene that had long ago formed in his mind, where he tossed a ball back and forth with a young boy. He thought about how all that went out the window when he first laid his eyes on the ultrasound picture Jess brought home. It was a defining moment for him: it proved that this all was real. There was no more messing around. He and Jess were going to be parents.

A new image began to form in his mind. He pictured a nursery, painted warm purple and yellow colors. He was there, sitting on a loveseat, cradling a bundle of blankets. A few seconds later, Jess entered the picture and sat down next to him, curling into his side like she always did when they sat next to each other.

He could picture it. It was so vivid in his mind that he wanted it to be true. He wanted to have a tiny human to hold in his arms, to rock back and forth, to bounce up and down on his knee. A tiny human that was the creation of him and her.

It was believable now.

"I do," he said.

"Then I know you won't ever do what I did," his father said immediately.

And Mike knew he was undoubtedly right.

During the drive home he couldn't help but ponder other things. His father had said that because he and Mike's mother never married, there wasn't anything really binding them together— other than their child, of course.

 _Should Jess and I get married?_ Of course they would have their kid to forever keep them in each other's lives. But maybe—

Mike stopped at an intersection, trying to flick on his turn signal. But it didn't come on, and he sighed, moving his bad hand from the steering wheel to flick it upwards. He had been so used to using those missing fingers to hit the signal, and sometimes he forgot they weren't there anymore, even six years later.

Seconds later another thought popped into his mind, and he stared down at his left hand in horror.

He didn't have a ring finger on that hand. _I could wear a wedding ring on my right hand,_ he thought, trying to find some hope.

Mike frowned. It wouldn't be the same.

 **Chicago**

"Hey, Samantha. My office."

Sam had to bite her knuckles to keep herself from saying something she'd regret. "Jeremy, I am _not_ speaking to you anymore. You blew it."

She was hunched over her desk, a slew of papers in front of her. Usually she was impeccably organized, but ever since she'd returned to work— by some miracle, she still had her job, even though she'd failed to show up to work during the two days the group was held captive— her stress level had climbed to an unhealthy height. This was mostly due to one particularly pesky coworker.

"Aw, come on, Sam. You've gotta be _Gidding_ me—" he tried, but she cut him off.

"Do _not_ start with the last name jokes," she muttered, resting her forehead on her palm. She scribbled her pen over paper after paper, blindly checking and signing forms.

For a couple minutes, there was no reply, and Sam began to relax. _Finally, he's left me alone…_

Then Jeremy piped up, "Listen to me, okay? Just hear me out. I am _really_ sorry that I said that to you. I was being stupid, and you know you're a really pretty woman, Sam… my mouth was just saying all this random shit and didn't give my brain time to process it and…" His sentence stumbled to a halt, interrupted by an inadvertent gulp. "Please forgive me. Can we at least be friends again, if anything?"

She whirled around in her wheeled chair, shooting him a baleful glare. "Jeremy, you— you asked me to _sleep_ with you for a promotion. I could've, and would've, reported you if it weren't for all the old men running this stupid place. They wouldn't care if—"

"They do care about you, actually, Sam," Jeremy insisted. He was leaning against the fuzzy gray edge of her cubicle, his pale eyes wide like an owl's. "I know we haven't talked in the past few weeks since… well, anyway, when you didn't show up last Monday or Tuesday, Baker was gonna fire you."

Sam's jaw dropped open slightly. Her hand tightened around the pen.

"I… I told him not to, to give you another chance, you know, maybe you were too sick to call in or something… and he actually listened to me. I'm not lying either, you can ask anyone here." Jeremy straightened so he could yell over the wall of the cubicle. "Hey! Schmidt! Did I or did I not beg Baker to keep Samantha?"

A young man with black hair and equally dark eyes raised his head over his own wall and gave a thumbs-up. "You sure did, Jerm! Begged on your hands and knees."

Sam blinked at him, a tiny grin on her face. "Well… so you did. Thank you." She chuckled glumly. "As much as I hate this job, I really need it to pay the rent so… thanks a lot."

"Ah, don't mention it." Jeremy's answer was accompanied by a humble shrug. "So Sam, will you please come to my office really quick? I have a surprise for you."

He led her down the hall to his own private room. She'd been in it a few times before throughout her two years working there— the office was full of classic "guy" knick-knacks. Sports banners and assorted football player bobble heads added some color to the drab creamy white walls. The only odd thing Sam noticed was that he had absolutely no pictures. There was one picture frame on his desk, though it appeared to still have the sample photo in it from wherever it was bought.

Jeremy noticed her staring at the smiling stock photo people and he self-consciously turned the frame away. "Okay, so you have to keep this on the down-low."

Sam watched apprehensively as he spun around his chair to reveal a box sitting on it. "… what's in there?"

"Why don't you come find out?" Jeremy shot back. Carefully he picked up the box and held it out to her.

Her front teeth dug into her lower lip as she pushed aside the flaps of the box to reveal a petite black and white kitten.

"Oh my god!" she gasped. Immediately her hands reached for the tiny animal, which mewled as she picked it up.

Her coworker beamed, flashing a blindingly bright smile at the blonde. "Do you like him? It was hard to choose just the right one for you, but… he's all yours."

Sam hugged the kitten to her chest. He was the cutest little thing; the way his fur grew made it look like he was wearing a miniature tuxedo. Clumsily he reached one paw up over her shoulder to swat at her ponytail. "Jeremy, thank you so much! He's adorable, but… I can't take him. My apartment complex doesn't allow pets."

His face fell. "Oh… wait, really? Even cats? They don't make any loud noise."

She smoothed her hand over the young cat's silky-soft back. "Actually, you'd be surprised. Trust me, I hate the rule and would love to have a few animals around, but my landlord would find out somehow."

With each word that left her mouth, Sam's heart broke a bit more. She was already so ridiculously attached to this kitten. She didn't want to let him go.

She was too distracted stroking the black and white creature to see Jeremy stepping closer to her. It was only when she glanced upward, curious as to why he hadn't responded, that he made his move.

His lips brushed hers, and although he didn't exactly force it, Sam found herself unable to pull away. He leaned in closer, keeping enough distance so as to not flatten the kitten into a pancake.

He wasn't a horrible kisser, to Sam's shock. They stayed connected for several seconds; it was long enough for Schmidt to walk by and notice them through the window of the door.

Jeremy stumbled back, his eyes popping open at the same time as hers. Sam turned around in time to spot Schmidt's fist pump, but not see Jeremy's returned one. "Nice one, Kline!" Schmidt called through the thin glass before continuing on to the copier room.

"Oh, Jesus," Sam whispered. Instinctively her feet began to shift backwards toward the exit. She still cradled the kitten in her arms, but the animal was trying to worm his way up her chest.

"Did you— are you—" He also seemed unsure what to say.

"I didn't mean to!" Sam exploded, the words spilling out of her like the fizz out of a shaken-up soda. "You can't just _do_ that! I— I have a boyfriend who is also my best friend and you… you can't just do that. Oh my god…"

Jeremy's legs nearly buckled underneath him, and his eyes were blue balls of shame. "Shit, I'm so sorry. You're just so gorgeous and I couldn't resist my feelings anymore! And I… didn't know you met someone…"

Sam trembled violently, but she tried to stop it so the kitten didn't become scared. "I met him a long time ago, actually," she mumbled. "And we reconnected while I was in Seattle and Christ… now I've betrayed him."

"It's not your fault," Jeremy said vehemently. "It was me who kissed you, I take full responsibility—"

"But I didn't pull away," Sam cried. She stared from the kitten to him, knowing full well that she couldn't keep the animal but also wanting to hold onto him for a while. She needed the support.

He saw her eyes darting desperately back and forth, then rest fondly on the cat. "Just… do _something_ with the fur ball, okay?" Jeremy snapped, circling around with his face in his hands, muffling his voice. "I don't want it."

Her blood froze at his tone. He was speaking about the kitten like he was a bag of shit that needed to be discarded. "Fine." She leaned back her head, trying to reabsorb the wetness that had accumulated in her eyes.

She groaned, wrapping her clammy hand around the doorknob to let herself out.

"Wait…" he said. "I understand that you probably won't ever want to talk to me again, Sammy—"

Every muscle in her body contracted, and a level of anger unfamiliar to her clouded her vision. "No. Do _not_. Only one person can call me Sammy, and it's not you."

She lunged out of his office, falling into the hallway like some invisible force had pushed her. She slammed the door shut behind her, jogging back to her cubicle while keeping the kitten well concealed under her cardigan.

Her heart was an ice-cold stone in her chest, heavy and weighed down by guilt. How could she do this to Josh, when it had taken him so long to regain her trust— _years_!

She knew right away that she definitely preferred Josh's kisses over Jeremy's, by far. There was something about the way Josh's mouth fused so effortlessly with hers. They fit together like two puzzle pieces.

And just the fact that she and Josh had finally moved forward after so much waiting and internal suffering really made him far more satisfying. They had risked their friendship to fall for each other.

Sam just missed being touched. It had been a few weeks since she'd returned from Seattle. She craved something, anything, and right then Jeremy was readily available. He was there, and he initiated it. She found it difficult to refuse.

And still she felt awful.

Her phone was sitting on the desk, and right then it buzzed and the screen lit up.

Shakily, she picked it up to see a text message from Josh.

 _Josh: Hey, Sammy! I miss you. I've got some news about Chris and Ash's wedding._

Something built up inside her throat. She couldn't swallow.

Furiously, she dug through her drawer until she found a napkin. She rubbed it firmly against her lips for a few seconds before withdrawing the crumpled paper to stare at the smeared lipstick.

She had to get the taste of Jeremy off her lips. It tasted like guilt. _I love you, Josh. I'm sorry._

* * *

 **Yes, so lots of angsty background info on Mike. I kind of got carried away, so I'm sorry if his part got boring.**

 **As for Sam, well... looks like both she and Josh have dirty little secrets now.**

 **I'm about to leave for the airport AGAIN this time for a different trip, so don't expect an update for a little while. Thanks for the love!**


	24. Falling

**Seattle**

"Chris asked me to be his best man!" Josh gushed to Sam over the phone. He was pacing back and forth in his apartment, his hair a mess because he'd just woken up. He wore rumpled flannel pajama pants— because, after all, if he couldn't wear a flannel shirt, the material had to be on him somewhere— and was shirtless.

Sam had called him at six in the morning, probably having forgotten the time difference between Seattle and Chicago. It was only eight where she was, but Josh understood. She had always been such a morning lover. If Sam were a bird, she would be one of the mourning doves cooing loudly at dawn.

"Woah, that's awesome, Josh!" Her voice breathed life into him. Even if she was halfway across the country from him, there was still always something about her that just fucked up his emotions in an adorably confusing and wonderful way.

"Yeah…" He swallowed down his rapidly beating heart before it could jump out of his throat and onto the floor. "A- and while Chris was talking to me, he happened to _casually_ mention that Ashley wants you to be her maid of honor."

He was met with silence, before a very unexpected and high-pitched squeal burned his eardrums. "Oh my god—! I'll text her to say yes when we hang up— oh my gosh— I'm so flattered—"

Josh winced, shying away from his phone as she went on stammering for another couple seconds. Sam only shut up when he at last groaned, "Sammy, please, have mercy for my poor ears…"

"Hardy har, Joshua." He could picture her in his head, a beautiful portrait. Her eyes would twinkle as she spoke, with a curl of fair hair coiled around her finger. "I just… got a little excited."

"A _little_?" Josh's exhale was accompanied by a low whistle. "… understatement of the century."

Her tone abruptly took on a serious tone when she muttered, "Josh. Come on."

The wings of his heart had been fluttering again, fighting its way back up his throat. But when he heard this, his heart fell, heavy, like a boulder to the bottom of his stomach. _I gotta lighten the mood—_ "Sammy. Aren't you gonna ask about how my trip went?"

Her confusion leaked through the phone and into his body. It made his anxiety skyrocket. "What… what trip?"

"Well, you see, I took a trip recently," Josh explained. Each word trembled in his throat. _Holy fuck, why does she make my nerves go haywire?_

"Is that so?"

"I… I tripped. I fell."

"Mhm?"

"I fell, Sam. For you."

The silence that followed was oddly deafening. Josh had been pouring himself a bowl of Cheerios but was forced to put down the milk at the risk of his shaky hand making it spill everywhere.

At last, Sam seemed to have found something to say. "Well, shit, Josh. It's funny you say that, b- because… I fell for you, too. In fact, I'm still falling. And I don't think I'll ever _stop_ falling."

And once more, his body was teeming with life. His eyes glowed, his lips stretched into an almost Cheshire cat-like smile.

Damn, how that girl made him alive.

 **Portland**

Getting lost in a fictional world was something Ashley never imagined herself becoming sick of.

Her job at Powell's bookstore was a dream come true. All day, she roamed the aisles full of short and tall shelves. Each row was stuffed to the brim with old, stained books along with new books hot off the press. They were all different sizes and colors, like the pieces of a patchwork quilt, and they were filled with such an assortment of words, all of which painted a different picture in the mind of their reader.

On this particular day in early April, Ashley had managed to sneak some free time into her day after her lunch break. All of her books for the day had been stocked— she could enter whatever world she wanted to.

It was days like these that made her job worthwhile; it helped her forget the humiliation of getting her book rejected by a top publisher. _Of course, it was a slim chance to begin with._ But part of her had still hoped that just _maybe_ the world would do her a favor once.

It wasn't as if the world had never helped her before. It helped her when it gave her Chris. She wasn't quite sure whether it was her who stumbled into his life, or him into hers; nevertheless, it was a match arranged by the angels. He was her everything, just as she was his. It was a shame they had taken so long to confess it.

The world also gave her the talent of being a writer. Rejected or not, she knew she was good— several of her coworkers and even her boss had read bits and pieces of her horror novel and agreed that it was impressive.

And, of course, she wouldn't, or couldn't, write if it weren't for books. Those silly stacks of inked paper glued together to form a chronological story awed her. It was books that formed the base of her relationship with her mother. They would always read them together.

And when her mother was taken from her in that car wreck, Ashley again turned to books to help her cope. It was crazy, really, how plain black words on a plain white page could paint such vivid images in her mind. It was enthralling.

Ashley stopped in her tracks in front of a shelf of new bestsellers. She grabbed an eye-catching novel with an orange cover and began to page through it, holding it carefully so as to not dog-ear the covers.

She couldn't resist the urge to bury her nose in the pages, relishing the smell as she flipped them quickly under her thumb. The scent of freshly-printed paper was second only to the musky warmth of Chris when she curled into him.

It took her a few moments to snap out of her trance when she noticed her phone begin to buzz in the back pocket of her jeans.

Sliding the novel back onto the shelf, she ducked into a stockroom to glance at the screen. She would not enjoy being caught disobeying her manager's strict no-phones-during-work rule.

Immediately her eyes grew a few sizes when she glimpsed the name on the screen.

 _The publishing company._

 _The publishing company that rejected me…?!_

Her stomach flipped over as she hit the green accept button.

"… hello?"

"Hello, is this Ashley Brown?"

Ashley grinned at the ring on her finger and was unable to suppress a grin. _Not for long._ "Um, yes, this is Ashley. May I ask what this call is about?"

The voice on the other hand was businesslike and firm, and it only made her more worried. "Yes… well, my name is Randall Kauffman and I represent Rustic Oak Publishing Company. It— it seems that we made a… misstep when we last contacted you."

"Oh…?"

"Concerning your horror novel, _Borne of Darkness_? It appears we, eh— we seem to have mistaken your novel for another one titled _Borne of Night_. It was _Borne of Night_ we rejected, you see, not _Borne of Darkness_."

She bit her lip, and stumbled backwards a little as shock overwhelmed. "So— does that mean—"

"Yes, Ms. Brown, it means that we have approved your novel for publication," Mr. Kauffman confirmed with a tone about as bubbly as a flat soda. "With your consent, we can begin publishing within the next month and get your book on the shelves likely by June 26th or so."

"June 26th…" Ashley mused. That was the day she and Chris were thinking of having their wedding. _Shit—_ "Yes. That sounds perfect, thank you so much!"

The man finally seemed to discover a less frigid way of speaking. "It is our pleasure, Ms. Brown, just as much as it was a pleasure to read your work. Congratulations."

Ashley was just about to hang up when one last thing popped into her mind. "Hold on a sec. Could I make one little request?"

"I suppose we'll have to see. What is it?"

Her heart felt like it was surrounded by a warm, fuzzy blanket. "Please have my name on the cover be 'Ashley Hartley.'"

"Ah, yes. I believe we can have that arranged."

A few seconds later, the call was ended and Ashley found herself slumped against a tower of books ready to be stocked. She was at a loss for words, and could only sit with her hands clasped under her chin.

She was going to be a published author, and the name on the thousands of covers would announce to the world that she was his.

 **Pittsburgh**

A sharp cry pierced the stillness of the dark bedroom. Mike felt something jerk against him. A heel inadvertently lashed out and struck his shin.

He recovered from the brief explosion of pain in his leg, and gradually roused enough to realize the source of the cry.

"Jess," he said insistently. Hours earlier they had fallen asleep in each other's arms, but throughout the night they must have shifted, for she was now on the opposite edge of the bed.

A low groan, followed swiftly by a heart-wrenching sob, escaped past her lips. She wasn't awake yet. She was still trapped in that fucked up dream.

"Jessica!" This time her name sounded with a twinge of desperation. He wanted nothing more than to stop her subconscious suffering.

He propped himself up on an elbow and leaned forward, gently guiding her squirming body back to him so she wouldn't tumble off the edge.

At his touch, she finally woke. She lay on her back, a horrified grimace twisting her normally striking visage. One last whimper, a wail that had been cut off, trembled off her tongue.

She opened her tightly shut eyes, took one look at him, and instinctively softened in his embrace. "It… it happened again…" The words were barely audible to begin with, but the fact that Mike kept hearing her tortured screams in his head made them even less easy to hear.

"It's okay. I'm here," he replied. He let his hand leave her face and travel downward, slipping under her t-shirt and tracing the outline of her body. She'd always had a slim shape, but her skinniness became even more pronounced after the Night of Hell. A few weeks ago, it hadn't been difficult for him to feel the bumpiness of her ribs ever-so-slightly poking through her skin— yet now, he could notice her starting to fill out somewhat. She was growing healthier, and he would've smiled if it weren't for their current situation.

"The nightmare…" She trailed off, and his hand paused.

"I'm sorry—"

"No, no, keep going," she begged, visibly relaxing as his fingers resumed tracing her silhouette. "It— it was just that nightmare again… you and I together, and we're kissing, and then t- the _thing_ comes into the cabin and drags me off, and I know that's not exactly how it happened but goddamn it feels so real…"

He shifted so he could plant a short kiss on her lips. "I know," he breathed into her mouth. Pulling away, he added, "But remember where you and I are. We're here, in Pittsburgh, far away from that place. You're safe in my arms, where nothing cannot and will never get you."

She turned onto her side and nestled into him. He rested his chin in her silky hair, which was still partially in a braid, with the ponytail holder having fallen out during her thrashing. "You spoil me too much," she whispered into his chest.

"It's only because I love every square inch of you," he answered.

"I love you so frickin' much, Michael."

His hand was still under her soft, cottony shirt, and he moved it so it rested on the small of her back. He felt a shudder of pleasure ripple under her skin, and he recognized a similar tingle within himself.

His longing for her was so incredibly intense, but Mike was able to tell that she was only in a cuddling mood. Although she despised the word, Mike had to secretly admit how fragile she felt, wrapped in his arms like a baby bird in its mother's wing.

Few things in life had gone as planned for them. Firstly, the prank. And then that night one year later. And, of course, none of their ambitions in life had quite played out the way they intended them to.

Jess wasn't a well-known model being featured on the glossy covers of numerous magazines.

Mike wasn't the President of the United States, or the president of anything.

But one thing that did go as planned for Mike was having her. Just being able to feel her body heat seeping into him, to have her heartbeat march in tune with his— truthfully, it was all he ever really wanted.

* * *

 **I am so so sorry about the long wait! I was across the country in California for a week, and school has been kicking my butt ever since I got back. I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday if you celebrate Thanksgiving. And happy December! Hopefully you enjoyed the sappy chapter, by now you all have got to know how I much I love that fluff.**

 **I was so overjoyed to see the several additional faves and follows during my absence! Thank you all so much.**


	25. Party Girl

**New York**

"Damn, that girl is hot. She kinda looks like Jess."

The very second the words were out of Matt's mouth, he appeared to have realized the grave mistake he'd made.

Emily snatched up the TV remote in her well-manicured hand and paused the movie. "And what is _that_ supposed to imply?"

Matt set down his beer bottle and hid his face behind his hands like a child playing peek-a-boo. "Aw, fuck, Em. That wasn't supposed to imply anything—"

"If it wasn't supposed to imply anything, then why are you suddenly acting so guilty like you did something?"

He groaned, letting his head loll back on the couch. Emily could tell he was too drunk to really care. She could see the annoying glaze in his eyes, the way his motions were too fluid as he tried to throw one arm over her shoulders. Shooting him an irate glare, she shifted further away.

"Come on, Em. Please. You know I only have eyes for you!" Matt insisted. He leaned onto his side, trying to capture her gaze. "You know I'm not into blondes."

"Mhmm. Right. And yet you _literally_ just said that the chick in the movie, who is _blonde_ , looks like Jess, who is _blonde_ , and that you think she is hot. That implies you are attracted to that bitch and I will not stand for—"

Matt cut her off by leaning towards her, his hands and knees sinking in the couch. He brushed a strand of barely shoulder-length black hair out of his way then pressed a quick peck on her lips. "I am _not_ attracted to Jess! And why the hell are you calling her a bitch? I thought you two made up."

Emily didn't even react to the kiss, still maintaining her contorted and disdainful expression. "Have you forgotten so soon that she stole my boyfriend from right under my nose?"

Emily always claimed she wasn't one to hold a grudge, and yet every angry thought that ever tainted her mind still clung to her, even six and a half years after she found out Michael Munroe had chosen Emily's best friend over her.

It was a few months after the prank that almost— supposedly— sent Hannah and Beth and maybe even Sam walking straight into the hands of death. Emily and Mike were feuding again over Skype; he was still guilt-ridden over making a fool out of Hannah. Emily, who was swamped with college work, scornfully demanded to know if he had a crush on Hannah after all.

Mike scoffed. He told her to shut the fuck up.

Emily could almost feel the plumes of smoke exiting her ears. She asked him if he would kindly "leave me the hell alone so I can study so that I can one day achieve a position in the workforce I don't even want, you smitten manwhore."

It didn't help that Jess and Mike went to the same university.

 _"Em, I got into Pitt!"_ Jess squealed, like an overexcited guinea pig, to her best friend over the phone.

 _"Nice, girl. Congrat—"_ Emily halted in her tracks. Wait.

Jess confirmed her suspicions seconds later, not having noticed Emily stopping mid-sentence. _"Mike promised he'd show me around campus. I am so psyched."_

Emily couldn't quite place why this put an unpleasant taste in her mouth. Everything would be fine. Jess would never do something as despicable as hooking up with her best friend's man. And Mike would never cheat on Emily with her best friend. They would have to be out of their minds to do something like that. It was a complete coincidence that Jess had gotten into the same exact college as Mike. After all, it was the school she had vying for as long as Emily could remember.

Emily had chosen Columbia, preferring the hustle and bustle of Manhattan. Besides, Columbia was Ivy League. It was her dream school.

And yet, all of a sudden, Emily wanted nothing more than to downgrade to Pitt. Just so she could keep an eye on those two, if anything.

It also didn't help that Jess was a perfectly slim bottle blonde with an hourglass shape, perky breasts, and big doe eyes. Sometimes Emily felt like a ten-year-old boy next to her.

Mike was into blondes. In fact, he even once admitted to Emily that she was his first ever non-blonde girlfriend.

And, interestingly, she turned out to be his only non-blonde girlfriend.

It also didn't help that Jess was so fun-loving. A true party girl, she never let school concerns such as grades weigh her down. She wasn't afraid to raise her blood alcohol level way over the legal limit for people of age to drink, which, back then, she was not over twenty-one yet.

In their senior year of high school, Mike threw a party to celebrate him winning the student government election.

He had decided way ahead of time that there was no way anyone younger than a senior would be allowed in.

If only Emily wasn't so determined to get her best friend into his party. If only she wasn't so stubborn that she was able to make him cave and invite Jess.

Jess, being Jess, also snuck in two of her fellow juniors: Matt and Ashley.

Mike was pissed about it, though not for long. Emily could clearly remember standing off to the side with him for a moment to catch their breaths after dancing. It was a wild party; his mother's house was trashed. Shattered bottles of alcohol crunched under jumping feet. Vodka and beer sloshed out of red solo cups, splashing onto treasured family photos.

 _"Hmm,"_ Mike mused.

 _"What?"_ Emily asked, her question almost drowning in the beat of the deafening music.

She followed his line of sight to find that Jess had been hoisted up on top of the coffee table, where she stood taller than everyone else like some kind of regal queen. She looked like a real leader, her mouth stretched wide as she smiled between belting out verses of "Livin' On A Prayer."

 _"She's pretty cool for a junior,"_ Mike commented, his eyes following each bounce of her beachy blonde waves as she swayed side to side to the opening notes of a new song.

Emily was still too blind then to realize. _"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. I told you it would be a good idea to invite her."_

It didn't help that Jess had such a contagious personality. She was fearless. She was beautiful. She was magnetic.

She stuck on you, like a bug on a car's windshield.

Mike's next party was that May, held for the end of their turbulent lives as high schoolers. It was open to every single member of the Class of 2013. His house was stuffed with people crammed into every nook and cranny.

Matt and Ashley couldn't even make the list.

But Jess did.

Emily was almost always at her boyfriend's side at these kinds of things. She was nearby when another classmate of theirs stepped up to Mike with his brows knitted in confusion.

 _"Dude, isn't she a junior?"_

He pointed to where Jess was currently singing a karaoke version of Katy Perry's "Last Friday Night" on top of the upraised fireplace, which served as a temporary stage. As the song ended, she received uproarious applause and cheers.

 _"Yeah. So?"_ Mike watched her and shrugged. _"Class of 2013 or not, she's fun."_

 _"I guess you're right."_

 _"She's the life of the party, man. This would be as boring as math class if she wasn't here."_

That was when Emily began to wonder.

So when she drove from New York City to Pittsburgh several months later to surprise Mike, she should've known it was a shitty idea.

She got there around nine p.m., having forced herself to drive straight through without any stops.

It was about a week after Emily hung up on Mike via Skype, when he became offended at her jokey accusation that he had a crush on Hannah.

It was also November 2014. Nine months after the prank on the mountain. Emily found herself unable to understand why Mike couldn't let it go.

 _I'll just talk some sense into him,_ Emily thought as she walked briskly down the hallway to his dorm. _He'll say he was being dumb, we'll apologize. I'll spend the night. Mission complete._

Mike had given her the key to his place, since he'd had a spare one lying around. Clearly there was some sort of trust built into their relationship.

 _"Oh, Mikey!"_ Emily trilled, turning the key in the lock.

The door swung open with a flourish, revealing Michael Munroe and Jessica Riley engaged in a hot make out session. Their shoes and her bra were discarded on the floor, but other than that their clothes were still on.

If Emily had been one minute later when she caught them, her head might have very well exploded.

 _"Emily!"_ Mike exclaimed. He removed his hands from where they had been exploring under her best friend's shirt and reached forward to kick Jessica's bra under the bed.

The only thing remotely satisfying about the entire situation was the look of guilt and pain burned into that stupid pretty face of Jessica's. _"Em, I- I'm so sorry—"_

 _"'Sorry?' 'Sorry' can't even begin to cover this one!"_ Emily yelled. The words trembled in her throat. Tears pushed behind her eyes, wanting to be shed.

She stared at Mike, at the smears of red around his mouth from _her_ lipstick. _"I come here to surprise you, Michael, and I find… I find you swapping spit with my best friend?"_

Her head snapped over to Jess. _"I should be saying ex best friend."_

Emily spotted the wetness gathering in Jessica's eyes. _"Emily, please…"_

 _"No, no, I don't want to_ interrupt _you two. I'll just be on my way now so you two can resume fucking."_

She wanted to say more, but the insults and profanities caught in her throat like a fly in a spider web. So instead, Emily slammed the door on them and marched down the hallway and down the stairwell.

She got into her car and drove. She drove far enough away to feel safe from any prying eyes. To feel safe from them finding her and seeing her like this.

Pulling over into the empty lot of a long abandoned gas station, Emily killed the engine and crumpled over, finally letting the messy torrent of tears unleash.

Jess was younger. Jess was more fun. Jess was far more beautiful than Emily could ever dream of being.

She was the party girl, always the first one on every invitee list. She was popular, the one wearing the _Homecoming Queen 2014_ ribbon over her chest. But most of all, she was Emily's best friend. She was the one who took all of those sleepovers, all of these secrets they'd shared, all of those inside jokes and texts at three a.m. and flushed them down the drain.

Seeing Mike and Jess still together, against all odds, six years after that night reopened the scabs of her wounds. And of course _she_ was pregnant— why not have salt to rub into the wounds?

So when Matt replied, "I know she took Mike from you, Em. But now you're with me. You and I make a great team" Emily just wasn't all that comforted.

"Matt… just be honest with me." She couldn't bring herself to look at him, so instead she stared at the TV screen, at the paused movie, at the cute blonde girl who looked remarkably similar to Jessica. "Do you think she's prettier than me? Even by just a little bit?"

When he snorted, it surprised her. "Come on. Are you serious? Even if I did think she was kinda good-looking before, I have to say that night six years ago really changed her. Trust me, Mike can have her all he wants; she's _his_ problem now."

Emily wasn't convinced. She kept her arms crossed, her eyes watering as they remained fixed on the screen.

"Not to mention," Matt added, inching closer to her on the sofa. "Not to mention that in a few months she'll have packed on the pounds quite a lot, if you catch my drift."

A devilish, spiteful smirk replaced her distraught frown. Emily cocked her head at him and chuckled. "You're not wrong, Matthew. She will be pretty… _fat_."

" _So_ fat," Matt agreed. "You see? There'll be no bouncing back from that. You are fuckin' gorgeous, Em. Don't let anyone tell you you're not."

Damn, he was good. At last Emily smiled all the way, and she returned his kiss.

She could forget Jessica for now.

 **Green Bay**

Just as Beth had demanded, all of Daniel's stuff was gone from the apartment within a day.

Three weeks later in mid-April, there was someone new in her apartment. Someone new sleeping next to her in bed. Someone new who Beth was almost 100% sure she wouldn't ever see again after that morning.

It had all started when Beth went out to a bar in the hopes of meeting someone.

She had never particularly liked bars, but at the moment she was desperate after having suffered a far too long dry streak.

The woman caught her eye from across the room. She was very similar to Sam in that she was of a short stature and wore dark red lipstick that highlighted her pearly white smile. She had curly blonde hair that barely brushed her shoulders. Her eyes weren't the same intense level of green as Sam's, but this entire presentation was still enough to make Beth want her.

She slid off the barstool, drink in hand as she sidled over to the woman, who was sitting alone in a back corner.

"Hello. Is this seat taken?" Beth questioned. After considering for a moment, she tossed in a quick bat of the eyelashes for good measure, tilting her head down and grinning coyly at the stranger. It was an old flirting tip of Hannah's, and for a second Beth was afraid that this suggestion from her hetero sister wouldn't work as well on a woman as it did on men.

But ten minutes later, there Beth was, sitting across from this pretty, green-eyed face— Kathryn was her name— and engaged in deep conversation with her.

Truthfully, Beth did not care much about Kathryn's interests and hobbies and aspirations in life. All she cared about was her likeness to Sam.

"I'm straight," Kathryn told her.

But thirty minutes later, there they were in Beth's apartment, having practically knocked down the door getting inside. Beth was still not a master of unlocking doors while busy pressing her lips against the face of this woman who was so similar to somebody else.

So Beth kept her eyes closed and pretended that Kathryn was Sam. She acted like this was an ideal world, where when you liked someone, they would not only realize it but also like you back.

The next morning, when Beth awoke and looked to her left, Sam's— no, Kathryn's— spot was already empty and cold, the covers smoothed over and tucked neatly under the pillow.

One thing Kathryn had said last night at some point between the front door and the bed stayed with Beth, even now that she was sober.

"You have"— her mouth brushed hers— "a real talent"— her teeth nibbled her lower lip— "Beth."

"What's that?" Beth replied breathlessly.

This woman who looked so much like someone else leaned back for a minute so she could speak more clearly. "There's some quality about you that can turn straight women gay." And then she dove back into Beth's face and those were the final words ever exchanged between the two.

Now as Beth lay there, utterly alone, with brutally bright sunlight slicing through the curtains, she wondered what exactly that quality was.

Beth would probably never really know what Kathryn had meant when she said that. And Beth could never be sure that she'd be able to get over her sister's best friend.

 **Chicago**

Sometimes Sam wondered if she was even reducing her carbon footprint at all by not having a car.

Because, during times like these, when it was pouring down rain in sheets so solid that they were impossible to see through, it would definitely be nicer to drive than to walk through it.

But Sam wasn't one to complain out loud, even when there was nobody around to hear it. The main reason for her concerns was for the kitten currently cuddled against her chest, protected from the downpour only by her buttoned-up coat.

 _Damn. Should've at least gotten an Uber or something._

She had searched and searched through her cramped apartment, trying to find some kind of box or bag big enough to hold the kitten and also keep him comfortable. Unfortunately, she had no such luck.

As much as she loved the puny creature, there was no way she'd be allowed to keep him much longer. The paranoia of a neighbor or, worse, her landlord discovering her furry little secret made her toss and turn at night. Sam hated lying or hiding things from people.

As she was thinking over this, a sudden yelp pierced into her ears. Fighting all her instincts to keep running onward through the raging raindrops, Sam froze and listened for another sound.

Just as she hoped, another whimper scampered through the rain's pattering. It was coming from a short alleyway that was cut off by a dead-end.

The moment Sam stepped into the dank corridor, again her instincts began screaming for her to turn heel and get out. Yet the sharp cries kept growing more urgent, coaxing her forward into the shadows.

That was when she found a sodden and dented cardboard box that had been tossed haphazardly against some grimy trashcans.

Sam knew she had to be crazy, but she swore she could hear tiny claws scrabbling futilely against the slick brown flaps of the box.

She knelt down, keeping one hand pressed against the kitten through her jacket while reaching her other arm forward to open up the box.

Staring up at her were two trembling, soaked puppies. A gasp surged up Sam's throat, but she herself was too cold for the sound to make it past her lips.

"Jesus," she whispered, surveying the puppies for a few seconds to make sure they seemed friendly before picking one up.

The dog yipped, squirming in her weak, one-handed grasp. Sam let it drop back beside its sibling, still staring at them in surprise.

If she wasn't mistaken, they appeared to be some kind of Siberian Husky mix. They had grayish-brown fur mottled with white flecks. Two pairs of gorgeous eyes, one set fully blue and the other half blue and half brown, blinked eagerly back up at her from among a tangled mess of mud-slicked fur.

Sam had come out in this weather to surrender the kitten to the local no-kill shelter. But she wasn't about to leave three animals there in one night.

She had trodden lightly while sneaking a suspiciously wriggling cardboard box up the stairs to her apartment. Luckily, the light in her landlord's office— yes, he had an _office_ in the lobby of the apartment building— was dark, so gleefully Sam skipped the rest of the way to the fourth floor.

Just like that spectacular night in Seattle with Josh, her hair was thoroughly soaked and her mascara had run down to her cheek on one side.

Sam barely spared herself a glance in the mirror, however, instead choosing to toss her dripping ponytail over her shoulder. She marched right into the bathroom, though not before gently placing the kitten on her bed in her room and shutting the door.

She tilted the box toward the bathtub, and the two dogs scrambled out, falling on top of each other in their excitement of finally escaping their uncomfortable confinement.

Sam yanked on the rust-lined faucet, and warm water gushed out. She switched from one puppy to the other, watching as both of them— a brother and a sister, she soon realized— relaxed under the soothing stream.

As the cleansing water dripped off their thick coats in waterfalls, Sam also noticed that only one of the littermates was gray and white. The other was, in fact, a very pretty solid white. She then examined them more closely for any signs of bugs or sickness; it was times like these when her college minor in veterinary studies came in handy. _Shame I'm not in a line of work involving that._ Both seemed perfectly healthy, though Sam made a mental note to bring them to a real vet soon to check for sure.

After using plain white bar soap to scrub their filthy little bodies, Sam rinsed them one last time then wrapped them in a towel. She tried hugging them to her body in an attempt to warm up their freezing paws and ears, but they were too wriggly and managed to, by some miracle of nature, scratch their way past the bathroom door.

Door hinges squeaked, the kitten meowed loudly from her bedroom, and water droplets went flying. Sam groaned more out of amusement than irritation, watching as the last of the dirt swirled down the drain of the tub.

She ran out into the living room, where the siblings had quickly tired out and began wrestling with each other. Covering them with the towel, Sam gave them one last rubdown.

Twenty minutes later, she collapsed, exhausted onto the couch. Two unfamiliar puppies snoozed on the carpet under her, and a black and white kitten was curled on a pillow in the next room.

Sam couldn't believe she had gone from no pets to three pets in just a week.

She also had no idea what she was going to do with them.

Following a fifteen-minute power nap, Sam tiptoed past the sleeping pups and collapsed on her bed, gladly allowing the kitten to snuggle on her lap. She could only pray the dogs wouldn't do anything too destructive if she were to fall asleep in here. Sam pulled out her phone and made a call.

"Josh," she sighed. She could hear his smile over the line. "I need some help."

"At your service, Sammy."

* * *

 **I hoped you all liked finally checking in on Emily and Beth again. Thank you so much for the new reviews. This fandom shall never die!**

 **I apologize if it seems like the past few chapters have been more angst-filled background explanation than anything. I try to make the flashbacks as interesting as I can, and future flashbacks will include more dialogue as the story goes on.**

 **I gotta say, it's hard to include more interaction for these scenes where a few of the characters are back home and live alone, though things will also be getting interesting as we get closer to the highly-anticipated Chrashley wedding.**

 **One last thing I should mention is the accuracy of the characters' birthdays as I have them stated way back in the prologue/chapter one. Tbh I completely made them up, but tried to match the month, day, and most importantly year with how old the characters would be in the game. I didn't notice until much later how I kinda effed up with the twins.**

 **Let's just say that in this story, everyone went to the same average high school together, and some of them have been friends with each other longer than others. (For example, I imagine Jess didn't enter the picture until when she was maybe in seventh or eighth grade, where she befriended Emily in the grade above her. Sam became close friends with the Washington family when she was eleven or twelve.) So even though a few of them, judging by their birthdays, should have been in a younger or older class, I've decided that these will be the years everyone graduated from high school in this story:**

 **2012: Josh (was mentioned to be a little older than everyone else)**

 **2013: Sam, Mike, Emily, Hannah (senior prom photo dated April 2013), Beth (by default because Hannah), Chris**

 **2014: Matt, Ashley, Jess**

 **When they graduated won't really matter in the long run except for maybe in some flashbacks, but writing Emily's POV for this chapter got me thinking about it so I decided to clear that up once and for all.**

 **Okay, sorry about the super long A/N. See you next time!**


	26. Scars

**Portland**

"Red-eye flights take a lot out of you," Chris groaned as he stumbled down the eighth floor hallway of Ashley's apartment building. "This better be worth it."

His fiancée shot him a glare over her shoulder and shifted Chris's bag further up her arm. "Yeah, and carrying half of your stuff up eight flights of stairs better be worth it, too."

"Hey, now. Of course it's worth it," Chris insisted. "When are they gonna fix the elevator anyways?"

Ashley shrugged, her wavy red hair bouncing up and down. "Honestly, they'd sooner install a brand-new elevator than fix the old one," she remarked, stopping at her front door and digging the key out of her pocket.

"Soooo… I guess that means never, then."

"Bingo!"

The door popped open with a reluctant squeak from the old hinges. Ashley immediately dropped Chris's bag on the loveseat to their right, then directed him to a small square of closet space in her bedroom for his suitcase.

"Nice place you've got here," Chris said as he gratefully let the heavy thing drop down against the wall.

"You've never been here before?" she inquired, tugging at her purple crochet beanie with an unusual air of nonchalance.

He nodded. "Yeah, I kinda envy it—"

He was cut off by Ashley's mouth, which collided with his with enough force to knock Chris off his feet. Together they fell back onto the bed, their breaths hot against each other as she furiously began to undo the buttons of his shirt.

"We're doing this now?" Chris hissed into her neck. "I mean, not that I'm complaining—"

"Hush, hush. I have gone without sex since _March_ , Christopher. _March_. It is almost May and _god_ I need this right now." Her words came out in a rushed jumble, but Chris barely heard them as it was. He gave in to her wonderful taste, relishing the sticky sweet feel of her lip gloss smearing around his face and neck.

Ten, maybe fifteen minutes later— Chris hadn't exactly been keeping a close eye on the time— they lay under the covers tangled in each other. He could almost picture themselves in a rom-com, the camera panning upward from their exposed feet to their flushed faces beaming with satisfied post-coital smiles.

"Well… that was definitely worth sitting in between a crying baby and a sweaty, overweight old man for almost two hours in bad turbulence." Chris chuckled as he recalled the comic situation he'd faced on the plane. "I forgot how much I missed that," he added after a few minutes of contented silence.

She snuggled deeper into his bare chest and snorted. "Forgot? How could you have forgotten?" Her tone was laced with mock offense, yet nevertheless it made him startle upright a bit.

"Wait. Shit. Where are my glasses?"

Chris began rummaging through the sheets, tearing himself away from her as he desperately felt around.

Ashley gently kicked her legs around to aid his search, but to no avail. She leaned backwards off the edge of the mattress to fetch her beanie, which Chris had ripped off at some point during intercourse, from the floor. "Babe, calm down," she grunted as she leaned back up onto her pillow. "I'm sure they're around here somewhere—"

"Don't you remember when we crushed them that one time in college? We had to pick the shards out of the sheets so that it wouldn't destroy the shitty washing machine in the dorms—"

"Chris. _Chris._ Earth to Chris! They're right behind you on the nightstand, you idiot."

Chris flipped himself over like a pancake, and sure enough there was his only outlet to seeing the world around him, waiting patiently for him inches away from his face. "Damn thing was hiding," he grumbled, snatching them up and sliding them back up the bridge of his nose.

Ashley took one look at the crooked, black-rimmed frames on his face and started giggling hysterically. " _Contacts_!" she told him in a sing-song voice, pointing an index finger at her own mesmerizing green eyes.

He scrunched up his face as if a chunk of moldy cheese had been shoved under his nose. "Yeah, umm, no thanks. I'd rather _not_ stick little wet pieces of plastic in my eyes. Don't you realize how horrible it sounds?" Chris stuck his tongue out at her. " _Now_ who's the idiot?"

"As far as I was concerned, the idiot was still you," Ashley argued. She sat up and wiggled her way into an oversized old t-shirt emblazoned with a logo and splattered with faded paint stains.

He followed suit, hastily shouldering his shirt back on and redoing the buttons. "Maybe I am, but I'm still _your_ idiot, aren't I?" Smirking, he reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze.

"Right you are! Forever and always."

She hopped off the bed, the shirt falling to her knees. Quickly she slid her panties back on before leading him out of the room and into the tiny den. "Okay, so before we discuss wedding details, I have to show you something."

"Mmm? And what's that?" Chris rumbled, the words rolling off his tongue like the purr of a sleepy cat.

Ashley whirled around, holding up a book with a glossy cover that indicated its youth.

When she offered it to him, Chris grabbed it and immediately felt his eyes light up as he scanned over the words on the front.

"'Borne of Darkness,'" he recited the very familiar title, completely thrilled. "'By…'" His voice faltered for a moment, and he blinked up at her in disbelief. "'… by Ashley Hartley."

"Well, that's gonna be my name soon, isn't it?" Ashley said, the ghost of a shy grin on her lips. "Oh, and speaking of _wedding_ stuff, I guess we should get started on that." She sat down at the two-person kitchen table and opened a small three-ring binder.

"Ash— are you getting published?" Chris demanded. He wasn't quite sure why she was brushing off this accomplishment. Turning the book in his hand to examine the spine, his expression further slipped into one of disbelief. "And by _Rustic Oak_?"

Ashley's head slowly bobbed up and down. Already she was engrossed in the formidable wedding binder. It was a monster of a thing, barely able to stay closed what with the countless papers crammed between the sturdy plastic covers. Numerous well-labeled tabs and sticky notes, curled over from frequent use, stuck out the side of the binder like the teeth of the monster.

"So I guess they changed their minds," Chris sighed, giving up on getting a more enthusiastic reaction out of her. "In any case, that is freakin' awesome, hon, and I'm so happy for you." _Jeez, she's such a humble person._

He took a seat across the table from her and drummed the faux wooden surface with his fingernails. "Soooo… what's up with that?" He gestured one hand toward the mammoth binder, and right away Ashley let out an annoyed moan.

"I just wanted this to be a small get-together," she complained, tearing through page after page like it was an enthralling novel. "How did it turn into _this_?"

Chris leaned forward, stealing a handful of papers from the top of the messy stack. The first line on the top page read

 *** CHRASHLEY WEDDING JUNE 2021 ***

He tried not to roll his eyes. "Chrashley? Did you invent a new word?"

Ashley gave a dismissive wave of her hand. "It's our ship name, courtesy of Hannah. Most of what you're holding is all from her. You know how she is— I ask her for a little help planning and a week later this packet of papers a mile thick arrives in the mail."

"Damn. She's got a lot of time on her hands." Chris thumbed through the papers, which were marked up with various flashy fonts and stars or circles from pink, green, and yellow highlighters. "Besides, I thought Sam was your maid of honor."

"I know, I know. And Sam's helped out a ton, too. She got the place you and I wanted reserved weeks ago, remember?"

"Oh, right…"

" _And_ Hannah considers herself the deputy maid of honor anyway, so I'm not gonna stop her. She found an awesome catering business for us. The only major obstacles left are dresses and tux rentals, and— of course— trimming down the guest list," Ashley explained.

From the very bottom of the binder, she yanked out a folded piece of notebook paper then spread it out in front of her.

"This will be expensive enough as it is with all the people involved in the wedding," Chris said. "We might not want to have any more than twenty-five or thirty people."

Ashley nodded eagerly. "Agreed! So let's see… all of the usual suspects: Sam, Hannah, Beth, Jess, Emily…"

"… Josh, Mike, Matt."

Chris noticed a strange look form on her face when he mentioned Josh's name. "What? What's wrong?"

"No, it's just… you're _sure_ you want Josh to be your best man?"

"There's no doubt in my mind, Ash." He took in her anxious expression and sighed gently. "Look, I know that there's no forgetting what he put us through. It was fucked up."

" _Really_ fucked up."

"It was. And we stayed away from him, from everyone really, for six years. In that time, he recovered and got a hold on his life. He is taking his meds daily, and his sisters are making sure of it. Now we know the signs he displays if he is off the meds. I think it's safe to say he's my best friend again."

Chris stared into her eyes. She was reading his face, interpreting the level of honesty in his words.

"And besides, as much as he… t- tortured us on that night— his main goal was to bring us together. And he did."

Now a contemplative frown was perched on her face. She rested her chin on curled fingers. "You don't think we would've gotten together anyway?"  
All he could offer was a shrug. "You never know."

They left it at that. Chris could still see how uncertain she was. No matter how hard she tried to cloak the psychological damage left on her from that night, it was still crystal clear sometimes. None of them could hide the physical scars. The weeks in and out of the hospital afterward. None of them could forget the mental scars. The months or even years of therapy. Worst of all, none of them could leave behind the emotional scars.

All those lost years of friendship.

It would always be a part of their lives, like a wound with a scab that never really falls off. And, over time, Chris learned to deal with it. He could slap on a band-aid, but the wound still needed air at times. And honestly? He was perfectly okay with that.

After much debate, they narrowed the guest list down to the other eight in their core group, along with Ashley's father, aunt, uncle, and three cousins. Chris had the larger family, with his parents and younger siblings Mason and Camila. He wasn't too close with many of his aunts and uncles, so it was fairly easy to cut them out of the guest list. His buddy Lucas Silverman would serve as the final groomsman. Bob and Melinda Washington would complete the guest list. Twenty-one people, twenty-three including the bride and groom. Chris could only hope that this number wouldn't leave them with a bank account in the negatives. (His parents and her father were all contributing a little cash, but still he worried it wouldn't be enough.)

By the time they finished weeding people out and sticking the invitations in envelopes and sealing them shut and sending them out and setting a date for the ladies to come to San Francisco— where Chris and Ashley were looking at places in the suburbs to move in together— to purchase bridesmaid dresses and confirming reservations for the tux rental place for the groomsmen and confirming their reservation with the venue again and confirming the date with the catering company again and then a third time because Ashley was convinced they'd forgotten to do it even though Chris had just called them three seconds before and discussing whether or not they wanted to have a big reception afterwards and whether or not they wanted to recite their own vows and so on and so forth, it was only three o'clock in the afternoon but Chris was positively exhausted.

"I'm gonna take a nap," Ashley announced, and collapsed on the couch not even a minute later.

Chris was about to join her, but once again his eyes were drawn to the preview book the publishing company had mailed her. He picked up the novel, cradling it like it was a fragile newborn baby. He ran his hand over the sleek cover, marveling at its shiny, impeccable newness.

Once he'd ensured that Ashley was definitely asleep, he discreetly opened the book to the dedication page. The entire time Chris had been dying to know who she dedicated her months of toiling in front of a flickering computer screen to.

The dedication read as follows:

 _This novel, full of horrific events and mind-numbingly grotesque situations, is dedicated to ten people who cross my mind each and every day._

 _My mother, Paige, who will live in my heart and soul forever._

 _My amazing significant other, Christopher, who is the reason I am eager to get out of bed in the morning and the reason I fall asleep each night with a smile on my face._

 _And eight other extraordinary people who changed my life in more ways than I could ever imagine: Samantha, Hannah, Beth, Matthew, Emily, Michael, Jessica, and Joshua. Thank you._

— _A. H._

 **Pittsburgh**

As Jess gazed at the bundle of snowy white fluff, laden in Mike's arms like a down blanket, only one word came to mind.

"What…?"

"I know what you're thinking, babe, and I know this seems crazy. But I wanted to surprise, you, you know—"

"You are insane," she lamented, marching into the kitchen where she had been trying to prepare some kind of edible dinner. "As if we need any more surprises, Michael."

He followed after her, still clutching the puppy in his arms. The animal looked like it could be a snow dog with three pieces of coal for its eyes and nose. Its long, gangly legs began to poke out from where they'd been tucked under its body and hung down past Mike's arms.

"Look, Sam found him and his sister abandoned in a random side street in Chicago! Her landlord doesn't allow pets, and—"

Jess froze, her hands buried in the salad she was tossing. "And when you went to get this 'surprise' for me, you drove all the way to Chicago to get him?" she demanded.

"No, Sam and I met halfway in Ohio, she borrowed her coworker's car and…" Mike trailed off and squeezed his eyes shut. "If you don't want him, I totally get it, Jess. I know we've talked about getting a dog before, but not since… well, you know. If you think this is too much to deal with, then I'll find somebody else to take him. I just— I just saw his picture when Sam texted it to me and he looks so much like—"

"Like Wolfie?" Jess finished for him. She didn't have to turn around to know that he nodded. "Mike, we can keep him for now. I'm sure Sam took him to the vet and everything—?"

"Yes. He's got his shots and I can get him licensed under us tomorrow, I have the papers from her."

At last Jess spun around, wiping her hands on a towel. She rested a skeptical gaze on the dog and the very hopeful, handsome face behind it. "There are just a few things to consider. Can we handle him once he's an adult? Can we spare the money to buy supplies and take care of vet bills? Will he get along with the baby?"

Mike gritted his teeth at her last question, suddenly stiff as an ice sculpture. The dog leaped out of his arms, his claws clicking against the floor as he pranced after Jess to the table. She took her seat, scooping some salad onto her plate and staring at it glumly. Instead of eating, she chose to curl and uncurl a lock of hair around her finger. After all, she wasn't exactly jumping for joy to eat rabbit food. She wasn't Sam.

After a tense minute, Mike sat down across from her, his hand tightening on his soda glass. "I will give away the dog if he so much as glares at our kid, Jess."

She nodded. "Really, it's fine. I was beginning to wonder if we would ever get a pet. And I mean— a puppy is good practice, right? To see if we can handle a kid? Better late than never, I guess."

He stretched out a hand to rest it on top of hers. "I'm sorry. I think I'm having a mid-life crisis and I'm not even thirty."

Jess couldn't suppress a laugh. "Psh. At least you brought home a dog and not a thirty thousand dollar sports car. And it's okay, hon. I mean, look at this face." She tilted her head down to where the puppy was being surprisingly obedient, resting under the table at their interlocked feet. "How can I say no if he reminds you so much of that wolf who helped you on the… that mountain?"

"That wolf saved my life," Mike admitted. "More than once."

"Then let's name him after the wolf who saved your life," she suggested.

Mike's eyebrows lifted in surprise. A faraway expression was carved into his features, as memories Jess couldn't see flashed before his eyes. "Wolfie?"

"It's perfect," Jess said. She felt the soft touch of the dog's fuzzy head nuzzling her toes. "Our little Wolf."

The grin on his face shifted into a smile wider than the Grand Canyon. "Works for me!" he chirped, shoving a forkful of rabbit food into his mouth.

Later that night, Jess once again found herself gazing into the mirror. It was something she did more often than she'd like to admit, though it wasn't because she enjoyed taking in the reflection that stared back at her.

She was only a closed door away from Mike, but when she was in here, really paying attention to her natural appearance sans makeup, it was such an isolating feeling. It brought her right back down to those mines, and the crash of the elevator shaft as it hit the bottom of the musty tunnels. Her capture from that "cozy, romantic love den" and the subsequent, barely-conscious fall down some twenty stories dealt her a number of injuries.

She started at her face. Her fingers traced over the faded marks on her left cheek. She could feel their depth, how far they dug into her skin. Like tiny animal tracks, they traveled unevenly up to just under her eye. Whether it was the monster or broken glass that made these cuts, she'd never know. The one thing she did know, however, was that she would be forever grateful she didn't end up with a shard of glass in her eye.

Next were the two precise snippets at the top of the bridge of her nose. It appeared as if someone had taken scissors and perfectly closed them right in between her eyes. This was actually one of the most difficult scars to hide under makeup. No amount of concealer or heavy foundation could get rid of that tiny dent.

The scrape on her forehead had been the only wound not deep enough to scar badly. If she ran the pads of her fingers over where it had been with enough pressure, she could feel the uneven area, the bumpy line nearly stretching back to her temple.

The worst of the marks, of course, resided on her body. Scratch marks decorated her shoulder blades and chest, draped like ribbons of puffy, red discoloration. The heather-gray camisole she was wearing showed these off without mercy. The delicate lines of the cottony lace contrasted with the harsh unsightliness of the old wounds.

Her fingers stopped at her chest, resting on the faded scar tissue. It was horrendous. She looked like an ugly old mannequin that had fallen off a garbage truck. She looked like a washed-up hooker who had been tossed out of a moving car. She didn't look beautiful.

She took out her braid, her eyes watching carefully in the mirror as each piece of hair fell apart from the rest. She sighed. Her hair was getting long. But she liked it that way. She liked that the blonde waves fell past her ribcage and tumbled down her back. It was more hair to hide the red patches on her shoulders.

She divided it into two sections, holding both pieces up in her hands. She contemplated how she would look with her hair in twin braids. She hadn't worn it in that style in six years. Once her mother had removed the purple elastics and very gently undid the braids her daughter had very eagerly woven hours earlier, before everything went to hell, that hairstyle never saw the light of day again.

It was because of these glaring imperfections that Jess loved makeup. Now, of course, she had always loved it before too. She and Emily, sometimes joined by the other girls, would go out almost every weekend to buy the newest trend. She would get up at four thirty in the morning on school days just to make sure she would have plenty of time to make herself look flawless.

There were so many days long ago where Jess truly believed she looked flawless. She'd found the perfect eyeshadow palette at Sephora. Her new mascara brush glided on effortlessly. Her lipstick was just the right shade, and her blush colored in her cheeks with a perfect dusting of rosy pink. Those were they days where she felt like a model.

She hadn't felt like that in years. Mike told her she was flawless, though. _Babe, you are drop-dead gorgeous. You look amazing today, Jess._ It was all lies. He didn't know it, but she still went to occasional sessions with a psychologist. She needed the therapy just as much as she needed Mike.

"Jess?" His knuckles rapped against the hollow wood, shaking the old door in its frame. "Jessica, hon. Please tell me you're okay."

 _I'm not._ "I'm fine, Mike…"

"No, you're not. I'm coming in."

And he did just that. He slid into the small bathroom, softly shutting the door behind him. Wolf whined half-heartedly on the other side, but quickly gave up and trotted away.

"You do know I'll always love you, right? I know you don't like what you see when you look in the mirror, but you are a beautiful woman, Jess. No scar will ever change that." In the mirror, their eyes met. He stepped up behind her, and she fell against him, melting into his warmth. "You're the love of my life." His breath was a hot cloud grazing her ear.

"I love you." Her throat trembled around her words.

She pressed back into him, now only focusing on his face in the mirror. His hands worked their way up until they rested on the slight swell of her stomach.

"I love you too. Always have, always will."

* * *

 **I just can't get enough angst...**

 **Yes, so, Mike and Jess got one of the dogs! He drove like seven hours total to meet Sam and get the Wolfie lookalike. Now if that's not dedication then I don't know what is.**

 **As for the other dog, you'll just have to see! Sorry about the long wait, this was a hectic week for me. Thank you for the reviews and follows! I appreciate it so much.**


	27. Alone

**Chicago**

" _Sam_! Girl, it's been _too_ long!"

Sam stifled a surprised grunt as her hairdresser, Denise, slammed into her full-force and engulfed her in a suffocating hug. Curly purple-dyed hair saturated with the scent of hairspray bounced into Sam's face.

"I know, I know, Dee. I've been really busy lately, I'm sorry," Sam choked out in between squeezes from the much larger woman.

"Aw, honey! There's no need to apologize!" Dee assured her, beaming wide as she finally pulled back. "I've just missed you so much!"

Dee was a very expressive person who was never afraid to speak her mind. It seemed like every sentence she spoke was an exclamation; really, though, she was like a walking and talking exclamation point, with her loud voice and neon purple curls. It was difficult for people not to double take when they passed her on the street.

"Sooo…" Sam muttered as Dee led her back to a chair. She scoured her mind for a simple small talk topic. "… new hair color?"

A laugh comparable to a pig squealing snorted its way out of Dee's mouth. "You know it! I just got sick of the green. People kept asking me if that color was intentional, and after a while I was just like, 'okay, this green has _got_ to go!'"

Sam chuckled, settling down into the chair with her hands in her lap as Dee wrapped the hairdressing gown around her. "So what were you thinking of today?"

"Eh, just a trim, I think—"

"Just a trim?" Another pig-snort laugh. "Why didn't you just go to the Great Clips down the street, then?"

Sam frowned, and instinctively her fingers began to play with a blonde curl. "I dunno… I just want to look nice… I guess…"

She felt Dee pull her hair back behind her shoulders, dousing it with spray and combing it straight. "You want to look 'nice?' _Ha_! Who's the lucky guy?"

Sam hesitated. She slid her nervous hand back under the gown. A flurry of thoughts snowballed back and forth in her mind.

The job she had been about to quit needed her to go on a business trip.

This business trip just so happened to be for presenting information from the Chicago branch.

This information from the Chicago branch just so happened to need to be presented in two other branches.

These two other branches just so happened to be in San Francisco and Seattle.

Sam just so happened to have immediately signed up for this trip, while a certain guilt-ridden coworker just so happened to quietly step forward and pay the extra money it would cost to fly a certain puppy from Chicago to San Francisco, where it would meet its new owners.

These new owners just so happened to be named Chris and Ashley.

And Sam just so happened to know that presenting information about insurance wasn't the only thing she would be doing in Seattle.

"Oh, there's nobody," Sam insisted. She wasn't quite sure why she felt she had to lie through her teeth, but that's what she did.

" _Pffft_." Sam saw Dee roll her eyes in the mirror. "Girl, I know you're lyin' to me. But if you're not, then I just don't get how you're still single! You are one of the damn hottest girls I have the pleasure of knowing."

A hot blush dabbed splotches of pink onto Sam's cheeks. "Dee—"

" _And_ you'll look even more smokin' once I'm done with you here," Dee added.

Sam didn't even have one second to speak before her reflection in the mirror disappeared into a cloud of hairspray. She had no choice but to keep her mouth shut and try not to think of all the chemicals being sprayed onto her head.

Twenty minutes later— after a period of time dotted with occasional pleased _mmhmm_ s from Dee— Sam was invited to look in the mirror, and right away she gasped.

Her, the girl who never kept her hair much longer than shoulder-length, the girl who tended not to curl it or do anything special with it other than throw it up into a ponytail or bun. Her, the girl who was a professed minimalist when it came to her hair, suddenly looked like a movie star stepping out of a limousine onto the red carpet. Or, well, she could be if the old green sweatshirt and leggings were replaced with a sequin-covered dress.

"Dee— how did you—" Sam hadn't even noticed a curling iron go anywhere near her; she must've been too buried in her magazine. "I look _amazing_!"

Her hairdresser's initial response was an "I told you so" smirk, Sam's interpretation of which was confirmed a few seconds later with "I promised you you'd look _hot_ AF when I was done with you, and I don't break my promises!"

She removed the gown from Sam, and blonde clippings rained to the floor.

All Sam could do, meanwhile, was stand in the mostly empty salon and stare at her reflection. Dee had taken off a good inch and a half so that her hair now fell down to the middle of her chest. The ends curled in nicely, and boasted an impeccable bounce. Dee had done something else, too— Sam was pretty sure they were called "layers"— that highlighted the natural darker streaks in her hair.

The words slipped out before she could stop them. "I can't wait for him to see this."

Dee materialized out of nowhere, beaming into the mirror. " _Ha_! I knew it! I knew you had a special somebody!"

Right away a bundle of anxious nerves dropped itself into Sam's stomach, but she couldn't bring herself to mess with a single strand of hair, out of the fear of messing it up. The best answer her buzzing mind could conjure up was a shy mumble. "Well, you've got one thing right."

"What's that?"

"He's definitely special."

By the time Sam landed in San Francisco a few days later, she was positively sick of people staring at her. From the moment she left the salon, there was suddenly something about her that made countless pairs of eyes stick to her like bees to a honeycomb.

She hadn't even looked at, let alone touched, a ponytail holder over the past few days. There was no way she would ever correctly learn Dee's recipe for a good hair day every day, so Sam figured there was no point screwing up her hard work.

By some miracle, Sam had been able to get the gray and white puppy inside the cabin of the plane with her rather than in the cargo section under the plane. This was likely because the company had her put in first class, and with the extra legroom (as well as a few extra bucks), it was fairly easy to fit in the dog's crate.

Chris and Ashley weren't there yet to pick her up, so Sam leaned against the wall outside, enjoying the much more pleasant Californian climate. A light breeze tickled her skin and sent her golden waves swirling over her shoulder.

As she took her phone off airplane mode, a barrage of texts flooded her lock screen.

 _Chris: Hey Sam_

 _Chris: Sorry we're almost there_

 _Chris: Got held up in traffic_

 _Chris: We are so psyched to meet our furry bundle of joy!_

His final text was followed by a solid wall of various smiling, heart, and dog face emojis.

 _Sam: It's ok, don't rush. And I know she can't wait to meet you guys either!_

She added a few husky emojis for good measure, then sent it.

The next two texts were from Mike.

 _Mike: It *may* have taken a little convincing, but look who's loving her surprise!_

Attached was a picture of Jess sitting in the grass of their front yard, her pretty face frozen in a wide beam. She was wearing a cute pale blue and white striped t-shirt that hugged her enviable figure, which now had the addition of a small baby bump. Their new dog had clumsily arranged himself so that he was standing on his hind legs, with his front legs draped over Jessica's outstretched arms. A vibrant orange collar poked out through his fluffy white fur.

Just looking at the picture brought a small smile to Sam's face; this was probably a chaotic moment, but somehow Mike's camera was able to capture and freeze a very wiggly puppy.

 _Sam: That pic is SO CUTE! What did you guys name him?_

Add dog emoji. Send.

There was one last text.

 _Josh: Hey Sammy! If you were an angle, you'd definitely be acute one._

And so her smile grew. The number of shitty pickup lines Josh had texted her in the past couple months had probably climbed to at least a hundred by now.

She was horrible at coming up with her own, however, so often she had to resort to good ol' Google. Their pickup line battle had gotten to the point where Sam even had a few backup pages of pickup lines saved on her phone. Luckily, this time her mind produced a pretty slick reply.

 _Sam: Thanks hon! If YOU were an angle, you would definitely be a right one._

Sweet, but with enough sassiness to satisfy her snarky side. Add blue heart emoji. Send.

She was just about to move on when Mike's answer popped up.

 _Mike: Wolf!_

This was accompanied by a selfie of both Mike, with a messy head of hair and a bit of facial hair growing in, and the dog— with one ear sticking straight up and the other flopped down— yawning with obnoxiously wide mouths.

 _Sam: Hmm. Cute. But are you guys yawning or roaring?_

She sent this just as Chris and Ash pulled up. Luckily the pickup area in this terminal wasn't too crowded, so they were able to hop out of the car to officially say hello to Wolf's sister.

"Sam!" Ashley squealed, rushing to give her friend a hug. "It has been _forever_!"

Sam murmured her agreement while Chris eyed her up and down. "Jeez, Sam. You didn't have to get all dolled up just for us!"

Ashley punched him playfully on the arm, while Sam rolled her eyes. "Uh, _right_. I haven't brushed my hair since Tuesday." She knelt down, turning around the crate to reveal a very excited puppy.

"Oh my god, Chris, look at her! She's so friggin' adorable…" Ashley pressed her fingers through the bars of the cage, and was met with a gentle nibble and a few licks from a slobbery tongue.

Chris's face broke into a broad grin as he crouched down next to his fiancée. "She did well on the plane?" he asked Sam, without removing his eyes from the dog.

"Yeah, she was a real trooper the whole way through. I got a few dirty looks for taking her into the plane with me, but there was plenty of room and she caused no ruckus at all!" Sam assured them. "She is just about the friendliest dog ever."

They loaded Sam's things into Chris's Chevy SUV, with Sam and the dog settling into the backseat. She leaned forward with a smirk as Chris shifted into drive and began the trip back home.

"What happened to your trusty old pickup?" Sam wondered, running her hand over the clean, dark gray fabric of the seats. The last time she drove in a car with Chris, it was soon before that night. January 2015.

It was a Ford, painted a deep forest green. It was like Hannah's tiny car in that its edges were lined with rust. The tread on the tires always seemed to be near its end, and yet still the truck clung to the icy roads with flawless accuracy.

Chris and Sam, being the closest friends of the Washington family, were the only ones who knew about Josh's hospitalization and prescription medicine abuse— or his stubborn refusal to take any meds at all.

 _"I'm really worried about him."_

The words slipped out of her mouth, like a bar of soap falling out of wet hands. She hadn't meant to speak her thoughts aloud, though she suppressed her embarrassment by trying to convince herself that it was what they were all thinking about.

Chris didn't seem to pick up on her discomfort. _"I know,"_ he agreed solemnly. His hand clutched the gear stick tightly enough to show the white of his knuckles.

Since Josh had dropped out of college, he spent most of his days sitting in his parents' enormous house, alone and depressed. Bob and Melinda were almost constantly on the road, and with Hannah and Beth several hundred miles away at their own university, Sam and Chris and put it upon themselves to check on Josh at least once a week. After all, they were the closest to him. The least they could do was ensure he hadn't killed himself or burned the house down since last Wednesday.

Sam held on tightly to the McDonald's bag in her lap. The heat from the junk food inside burned her thighs, but she chose to ignore it. That was far better than the icy Seattle-area winds seeping through the grimy windows of the old truck.

The car rolled to a stop at the bottom of the very long driveway. _"You ready?"_ Chris breathed.

 _"I'm as ready as I'll ever be,"_ she replied.

The Ford chugged up the hill, and came to a halt behind Melinda's BMW, which was the overflow from the already full two-car garage. The sleek vehicle was blanketed with snow, and Sam could imagine it cowering in disdain before the rumbling front grille of the truck as it rested inches away from the car's rear bumper.

Chris and Sam crunched through the badly-shoveled walkway. She curled her fingers into the warm bag, her nails digging into the red and yellow paper and nearly ripping it.

Chris's gloved thumb punched the doorbell. The grand sound echoed around inside, audible enough to leak through the front door. One second. Two seconds. Three. Four—

The door swung open, and a dusting of powdery snow that had fallen on top of the pediment showered down. A moment later, the white screen between them and Josh was gone, and he stood there before them in all his glory.

His hair was in desperate need of a trim, and stuck out at odd angles. His green eyes, normally lit up with a spark of life, were dull and lifeless. Purplish circles hung under his defeated gaze, as if he'd been beat up. He had on a black hoodie with sleeves that were far too long and stretched past his fingers.

Chris took the fast food bag from Sam and raised it up with a meek smile as if it were some kind of olive branch. _"Happy belated twentieth!"_

Josh blinked at them like they were strangers. _"That's what you said last time. My birthday was over a month ago."_

 _"Ah, well… merry belated Christmas…?"_ Chris trailed off. His eyes darted desperately to the corner of his field of vision, to Sam, who felt like a helpless snowman melting under the sun's glare.

Sam tried to add strength to her faltering grin. _"C'mon. How can you resist a McDouble with cheese?"_

Josh snorted, though Sam could see the faint sneer behind his eyes. " _'Here, have a cheeseburger,' says the staunch vegan,"_ he teased.

 _"We held the pickles,"_ Chris tried.

 _"AND we told them to only put a coin-size amount of ketchup. Just as you like it,"_ Sam added.

Josh's intense stare flashed from one person to the other. A frustrated sigh escaped his lips. _"Fries?"_

" _LARGE fries,"_ Chris confirmed.

A minute later, the three of them were inside the mansion, sitting at one end of the fifteen-foot-long dining room table. Josh was chewing away, and Chris periodically snatched a fry or two from Josh's stash when he thought his friend wasn't looking. Sam had gotten herself a glass of iced tea— she knew the Washingtons' place like her own house— and she nervously watched Josh through the edge of her cup, his image distorted by the engraved glass. He had never exactly been okay since he was eleven years old. The incident with his sisters last February really damaged him even more. Sam could only pray he wouldn't get any worse.

How wrong she was to hope.

Chris's answer jerked her back to modern day. "Oh, ol' Betsy? She made it to California, but she quit on me a few years ago."

Ashley stuck her tongue out. "I was glad to see that truck go! It stunk to the high heavens."

"Yeah, right. Just admit it, babe— you loved Betsy."

"Did not!" Ashley protested with an unmistakable eye roll.

Sam arched her brow as she rubbed her hand along the puppy's down-like fur. "Chris, you are honestly the only person I know who _names_ his cars."

"Cars are people too!" Chris said in a mocking voice, and he briefly raised one fist in the air. "No, really, though." He patted the SUV's dashboard, and Sam spotted his wily grin in the side mirror. "This handsome fellow here is Frank Junior. Named after my dad because he used to be my dad's!"

Ashley shook her head and buried her face in her hands, red locks falling in front of her eyes. "You are _such_ a weirdo," she lamented. "It's a blessing that you're so loveable."

A few minutes later, they arrived at Chris and Ashley's new place, which was an adorable little house at the edge of a modest neighborhood. It almost looked like a cottage from a fairy tale, and Sam instantly fell in love with it.

"I was in Portland a few weeks ago," Chris told her as they made their way in. "We were looking online at places around San Fran, and we found this one."

"It was perfect," Ashley piped up. "We did one of those virtual tours, and when Chris came back home he did a walkthrough while FaceTiming me. Five days later, it was ours, and I sure as hell wasted no time moving in."

Sam stood in the middle of the living room, admiring her surroundings. In just a week and a half of living here, they already had the place plenty furnished. Pretty patterned rugs stretched over the wooden floors. The glittering granite countertop in the kitchen caught Sam's eye from halfway across the room. The light blue walls were filled with some artwork from Chris's younger sister Camila, as well as a wide array of pictures (some notable ones to Sam were selfies Chris and Ashley had taken, along with the recent group photo when they were in Seattle in March). They also had an entire room dedicated to Chris's gadgets and Ashley's iMac.

The gray and white puppy ran around the house, ecstatic to be free from her crate. She bounced around and played with the three of them and slopped her tongue over every square inch of skin within reach. By the end of an hour of playtime, with a very tired puppy curled on one end of the couch, Chris and Ash had settled on a name.

"She has a lot of energy. She'd hard to ignore. Her eyes are wet and grayish-blue like the rain," Ashley explained. Sam smiled; the redhead definitely had the passionate mind of a writer.

"So… Storm," Chris announced. "Storm. That's her name."

Sam leaned forward from where she was crouched on the floor, a tug-of-war rope laying forgotten on the carpet. Her fingers scratched behind Storm's ears, and the young dog let out a grumble of pleasure. "That's a perfect name," she agreed.

 **Spokane**

The apartment sat in complete darkness. It was as if the electricity was cut, though it most certainly was not. While the rest of the windows in the building glowed with warm yellow light, glowed with life, there was that one window which was engulfed in black.

This window was open, allowing brisk night air to swirl in. With each new breeze— and they came as steady as ocean waves— pieces of paper that were scattered on the floor rustled weakly, stirring around like fallen autumn leaves.

And although the apartment was dark, it was not empty. A hunched figure sat silently on the floor, in the center of the scattered, rustling papers. She had her chin propped on curled fingers, her legs crossed and her long brown hair tied back into a ponytail. Black-framed glasses had slid to the end of her nose. Sticky, salty paths left by tears that had long since dried striped her cheeks. Her dark eyes were moist, but nothing had shed from them in hours.

Her pretty, yet troubled face was focused on a few favorite sheets of paper. The edges of these pages were frayed and uneven, and appeared to have been torn out from a notebook of some sort, maybe a journal. Messy, excited handwriting and silly doodles were scrawled over the pages. Reaching out a trembling hand, the woman raised the paper up to her nearsighted eyes and read. The memorized words glided through her mind, smooth as butter.

 _October 29th 2013_

 _I really think Josh is doing better now that he's out of the hospital. I saw him today and he seemed better. He's pretty upbeat, but he talked like he's been doing therapy for such a long time. I guess I didn't know. Mom and Dad never let on. Funny how you can not even know your own brother. I kinda need a good cry thinking about how lonely he must feel…_

She tossed this page to the side and moved on to another.

 _January 9th 2014_

 _Mom finally agreed. The invitations are out! The party is gonna happen!_

 _I HATE that I have to wait._

 _So far Ash, Matt + Sam have said definitely yes. Nothing from Mike… :(_

Stupid, stupid, stupid. How could she be so stupid?

 _January 18th 2014_

 _OMG! Mike confirmed!_

 _He phoned Josh this afternoon. :D_

So naïve. Such an idiot.

 _February 1st 2014_

 _Woohoo! PARTY TIME tomorrow!_

 _Everyone being here together on the mountain is gonna be SO AWESOME! Cozy fires and hot tubs and OMG Mike! I am so psyched to spend some time with him!_

 _Totally got to stop obsessing but I can't help it — and don't want to._

She set down this stack of ripped papers and picked up another.

After that first night, the handwriting became more slanted, written with fear screaming from every cross of a T, every dot of an I, every loop of a Y. She was damaged.

 _February 2nd 2014_

 _They pranked me. Mike pranked me. They thought it was so funny. I was going to take my shirt off for him. I thought he liked me. _

_I should've known Emily was too cruel. I should've known she and Jess were probably planning something all along._

 _I didn't know what to do… so I ran. Out into the forest. Beth came after me._

 _We almost died. I swear we almost did. Sam came after us and led us back to the lodge, because the snowstorm was so bad._

 _I just got back a few minutes ago… I'm still shivering. I can't believe this happened. I don't want to see any of these people EVER again. Beth says Josh will beat them up when he wakes up later this morning. Sam is pretty pissed off at them too._

 _I feel like I'm gonna cry…_

It was almost too much for her to look at the next entry.

 _February 10th 2014_

 _When I went out into the forest last week. There was a monster. I don't care if nobody believes me, because I know what I saw._

 _The only person I've told so far is Sam. She's my best friend, she wouldn't ever call me crazy. Beth would think I'm nuts. Josh would freak out and become all overprotective again. _

_I think I should tell somebody else, though. Maybe the police in Blackwood._

 _It had milky white eyes. It screeched like a banshee. It had sharp teeth, like huge talons, in its mouth, and long claws._

 _I know I wasn't hallucinating. I wasn't drunk, or high, or anything. I SAW that thing, and I hope I'll never see it again._

The entries after that became few and far between. There were a few for the remainder of 2014, mostly detailing college life. Boring. There were occasional mentions about Josh's condition. Him dropping out of college. His depression growing worse, the hallucinations not getting any better. Something about that night changed him, even though he had nothing to do with the prank.

It was difficult for her to even fathom, but there were moments where Josh believed his sisters were dead.

When they were captured by that insane cop in Seattle, and forced to breathe the strange gas pumped into the different hotel rooms, she saw something unbelievable.

It was her and Beth, out in that snowy forest. She was shivering, and had just slid on her sister's bright pink coat.

There was no Sam in sight. They ran the completely wrong direction, too blinded by fear to realize they were headed straight for a fucking cliff.

 _"Shit, no!"_

 _"No! Stay back!"_

It was the flamethrower guy— Jack Fiddler— approaching them. Now she knew the truth: he was fighting off one of the strongest wendigos that night, the Makkapitew. In this scene, he was approaching the girls at the edge of the cliff. The sisters had no idea who he was. They thought he was a predator, when all he wanted to do was help.

The heel of Hannah's boot slipped off the icy edge, and together she and Beth tumbled off the cliff. But Beth thought ahead— she grabbed an exposed root, while Hannah hung onto her sister's other hand for dear life. They were dangling so precariously, like an apple about to fall off its branch.

Jack knelt down and offered a hand to Beth, who was helpless. Her options were limited: either drop Hannah so she had a free hand to take the help, or let go of the root.

Hannah knew Beth. It was no surprise to see her detach her blistered fingers from the root, and the twins fell, screaming, into the abyss below.

The older Hannah seemed to fall with them, though she landed gracefully like a cat on her feet at the bottom. The younger sisters, however, weren't so lucky. Beth's spine cracked against a tooth-like rock. Blood splattered. Glasses smacked rough stone and splintered. Hannah's body hit the ground with a sickening _thud_.

That wasn't the end of her vision, though. Oh, no. Far from it.

The vision sped up to hours later, and miraculously the younger Hannah roused. It was obvious that Beth was dead, though her sister refused to believe it.

 _"Beth. Beth, no! Please. Please wake up!"_

The sobs echoed through the dank cavern. Hannah could barely move as it was, with her leg twisted at an unnatural angle. Broken leg, broken glasses, broken heart. She was blind, immobile, and scarred for life.

Days went by. The other Hannah dragged herself around, using her good leg to propel herself forward, kicking off the wall. She seemed to build up good arm strength. She squinted around, groaning in pain.

There was some old paper on the ground, and a piece of charcoal. She was always a good diary keeper, so she began to write.

More days went by. The sun's rays from above were filtered through so many layers of dust and grime that by the time they reached the mines, it was barely a pinpoint of light.

Hannah watched her younger self suffer. It was hellish. She wanted to take off her working glasses and hand them over to herself. She wanted to give the other Hannah her clean shirt. She wanted to craft a splint somehow, or give her the gum in her pocket. _Something_.

Hannah stared at the paper as her younger self scrawled down desperate words.

 _Day 30._

 _"I'm sorry, Beth. I had no choice,"_ she whispered, voice cracking.

She crawled over to the grave she'd made for Beth, with the crudely-fashioned wooden cross carved with "BETH 2-2-14".

Starving hands scraped through the mounds of crumbled earth until they found the flesh underneath. And she feasted.

At last, Hannah was free. The horrific scene faded to black around her, and she ran until she emerged into a hallway. She'd met Emily, who was the absolute last person she wanted to see right then, but she played with the card she was dealt. Emily was equally traumatized by whatever she'd just seen, and so they shared a quiet hug. For once, two very different minds seemed to understand each other.

After seeing that scene, Hannah was disgusted. She went on to see other visions, including her head getting ripped off by one of those things. It was clear these were the results of failed close calls during that night one year later.

Hannah remembered the moment she was first introduced to the monsters that had been living on her family's mountain for decades. That was a true "childhood ruined" moment.

 _"Now just move over there. Go on, move! Let me say what I came to say."_

Mike and Chris stumbled back into the living room, followed by a very grizzled older man laden with much more gear than any hiker could ever need.

 _"I'm here to tell you what you're up against being back on this mountain."_

The gruff voice stung Hannah. It was unpleasant, to say the least, to have this rude stranger barging into her parents' lodge. Why the hell did Mike and Chris let him in?

 _"You should never have returned."_

Hannah frowned, exchanging glances with Sam, Ash, and Emily. She was too scared to argue.

 _"I don't know why you did after what happened last year."_

Sam seemed to find her voice. _"You mean… Hannah's sighting?"_

The stranger's bag dropped heavily like a boulder onto the mud-caked carpet. _"Yes, Hannah's 'sighting,'"_ he replied testily. He swung his large body around, glaring at the teens, some of whom were sitting gingerly on the edge of the couch. _"Now, which one of you's Hannah Washington?"_

Several pairs of eyes turned to Hannah. _"Um, me,"_ she mumbled, huddling closer to Sam on the sofa.

The stranger laughed glumly. _"Right. So you saw a 'monster,' correct?"_

Hannah couldn't quite understand what was so funny about this situation. She had just been put through mental torture by her own brother— _"Hannah?! You weren't— you weren't supposed to be with Chris and Ash— you were supposed to go to Beth after I stormed off…"_ — and then saw him get dragged off to a shed by her asshole of a crush. Emily had just returned, hysterical, after falling off a fire tower with the MIA Matt. Jess had fallen down a mine shaft and was presumed dead. So, yeah, nothing was really funny about this whole thing. _"Yeah, I saw a monster,"_ she told him with a touch of defensiveness in her tone.

 _"Well, you see, sweetheart, you wouldn't have seen that monster if your bull-headed father decided to heed my warnings,"_ the stranger explained, crossing his arms and sending her one hell of a death glare. _"I don't take kindly to you kids coming up here to my mountain—"_

Mike scoffed. _"Your mountain? I'm sure the Washingtons would be very surprised to hear that, eh, Hannah?"_

Hannah folded her legs and lifted her knees to her chin. She was trembling despite being dressed in three layers. _"Yeah… what are you talking about?"_

Again the stranger laughed. It was a bone-chilling kind of chuckle that sent waves of irritation tingling down Hannah's spine. What the fuck was so _hilarious_ about all this? _"Well this mountain don't belong to me, it's true. But it don't belong to the Washingtons."_

 _"That doesn't make any sense—"_ Chris started, shooting Hannah a bewildered glance.

The man went right on talking as if he hadn't been interrupted. _"This mountain belongs to the Wendigo."_

 _"Who?"_

Sam stared at Hannah, searching her for answers she didn't have. _"What's he talking about?"_

Mike was still sour. _"What the hell's a wendigo?"_

 _"Let's hear him out,"_ Sam insisted.

Mike rolled his eyes. _"Not like we have a choice."_

And so the stranger told them everything. Hannah couldn't believe it. She wasn't insane— what she saw while running through the forest the year before was _real_. All this time, it had been lurking outside her family's lodge, on their property, waiting to pounce on the first idiot who wandered outside in the dark.

That idiot was her.

One of the last things the stranger said before he left with Chris to find Josh really stuck with Hannah. She was trying to keep herself out of hysterics at the thought of her brother being murdered by one of those things, but Sam's arm over her shoulder helped calm her somewhat.

 _"I fucked up bad last year,"_ the stranger admitted. _"I was unable to defeat the Makkapitew. It escaped right through my fingers, inches away from my flames. It's still out there, and because it was free, it helped its fellows escape from the sanatorium. Now there are as many as ten or fifteen out there, or more. Most might be far away from here, but those buggers are fast— and if they see moving prey making a commotion, they'll try to get ya."_

 _"Jess,"_ Mike breathed.

Emily looked like she was going to be sick. _"Matt!"_

Hannah stared up the stairs and wondered if she should wake Beth. Sam seemed to be thinking the same thing.

 _"Let's not disturb Beth for now,"_ Hannah decided aloud. _"We're all safe in here, aren't we?"_ Her question was left unanswered, as the stranger was already making his way to the side door with Chris. Ashley followed curiously after them, and came back moments later blushing.

 _"We should go to the basement,"_ Mike announced. _"There's no windows down there, or at least not as many as up here. It'll be safer."_

Sam ushered Hannah onward, and Emily followed close behind. _"I should get Beth,"_ Ashley yelled back to them. _"We'll catch up!"_

A few minutes later, however, Ashley and Chris came panting down the stairs alone, slamming the door behind them.

The flamethrower guy was dead, decapitated right in front of Chris. Ashley hadn't thought twice about throwing open the door for him. She forgot to fetch Beth, and Josh was nowhere to be found in the shed.

 _"Fuck,"_ Hannah whispered. What if she was the only one of her siblings who would make it through the night? She leaned back against the bulletin board in between Emily and Sam. _"I need to go back up and get her—"_

 _"Hannah, it's not safe,"_ Mike growled at her.

 _"But—"_

 _"She's probably asleep, Han. It'll be fi—"_ Ashley cut herself off. She was gazing in horror at Emily's shoulder. _"E- Em, what is that?"_

Emily had been bitten, by the wendigo no less. Of course it couldn't have just been a bear or wolf bite. Naturally, Ashley fretted that it would make Emily turn into a wendigo.

 _"This is the safe room, Emily!"_

 _"If you just go upstairs, then at least you won't be alone. Beth is there and—"_

Emily refused to leave. Mike looked about ready to shoot her dead. Hannah leaped off of the table and stood in between Mike and Em. _"I see you eyeing that gun, Mike,"_ she cried. _"We don't shoot our friends, or our exes, or anyone here. That's savagery."_

Mike lifted his hands in surrender. _"You're right… I just… I don't know."_

And now, six years later, here Hannah sat in a dark apartment, alone. The pages of her journal slid out of her hand— all except for the very last page.

 _February 3rd 2015_

 _Last night was the worst night of my life._

 _We almost died._

 _They can't find Josh. My big brother is gone._

 _At this point I just want to go ahead and die. I want this to be over._

Slowly, carefully, Hannah stood up from the mess on the floor, and noticed her phone light up and buzz on a nearby table. She blinked down at the device and saw who it was from.

Harrowed brown eyes shifted to the darkest part of the apartment. The room that used to be her sister's.

Now she was alone. And even though everyone said they were there for her, they really weren't. Nothing would ever be the same.

And, worst of all, she still loved Mike. He could beat her senseless and she would still love him. He could love someone else unconditionally— like he did— and still she loved him.

Hannah returned her eyes to the screen, which now displayed a missed call. She played the message, leaving the phone on speaker as she returned to the piles of torn pages.

"Hello. This is the suicide hotline for the northeastern Washington state area. We traced your number to a Hannah Washington? You called and hung up, and because we care about every person who makes a call to our hotline, we wanted to ensure your well being and safety. Please call us back at—"

* * *

 **This might just be the longest chapter I've ever written? This is my Christmas gift to you, so happy holidays!**

 **In case you were confused, when the dialogue is _italicized_ , that means it's a flashback.**

 **Thank you so much for the reviews, faves, and follows! If I don't update this again before January, then happy new year! Let's hope 2017 is better than 2016 was. Love you guys!**


	28. Rain

**San Francisco**

After a stressful day working, this was exactly what Sam needed and wanted.

She was lounging on the back porch of Chris and Ashley's fairytale cottage, with a glass of pinot grigio in one hand and the soft coat of Storm under her other hand. Her sandal-clad feet were propped up on a glass table, and beyond them a creamsicle-orange sunset gleamed. It almost looked like the sky was a canvas, and the sun had been painted on with strokes of bold orange and cotton candy pink. In short, it was breathtaking.

"Ahh. This is so relaxing," Sam murmured, taking a sip of her drink and swirling it around in the glass like some kind of wine snob.

Ashley hummed in agreement from her spot in the chair next to Sam. "I know, right? The moment I first saw this patio, I knew we had to have this place."

Sam shifted, snuggling deeper into the cushions of her chair. She twisted her upper body so she could set down her glass for a moment. "So… you don't miss Portland, like, at all? I thought you loved your job at the bookstore there."

All Ashley offered at first was a nonchalant shrug. She swallowed a small mouthful of wine and grinned. "I dunno. I did like working at Powell's, but I also really missed living with Chris. And now that they're publishing my book after all, it seemed like a no-brainer. Since I've got a deal with this well-known publishing company, they've really advertised my book a ton, so I have several pre-orders, and I've already found a job here at a bookstore a few towns over."

"Wow." Sam withdrew a long breath and stared wistfully at the dipping sun. Its dying light cast an orange glow that licked at their faces like flames. "And Chris is happy here too?"

"As far as I can tell, he is. Besides, he's a pretty bad liar, so I'd be able to tell if he wasn't."

"Even though he had to leave behind an apartment that was a few blocks away from his new job?" Sam chuckled. "He was complaining to me yesterday that he always sweats so much while driving there, he feels like he's melting."

Ashley groaned. "He is such a weirdo. He claims that keeping the AC in the car off or on the lowest setting will conserve its power for longer."

The door to the house was ajar, and suddenly Chris poked his head through it, shooting Sam and Ashley a faux annoyed glare. "It's the truth, babe. You should just admit I'm right and move on already. And anyway, in the wise words of a very popular Disney character, 'some people are worth melting for!' You should take that as a compliment!" He quickly disappeared back inside before either girl could argue.

Ashley wrinkled her nose. "Ew. _Frozen_. I hated that movie."

A smile drew itself onto Sam's lips. "Remember when Hannah made the whole group go see that the day it came out?"

Her friend buried her face in her hands. "There is nothing in this entire world more annoying than 'Let It Go'—"

From somewhere in the house, Chris could barely be heard belting out verses like an opera singer. "Can't hold it back anymore…!"

"Ughhhh!" Ashley shrieked. "Make it stop, my ears are bleeding…"

The next morning, it was time for Sam to fly north to Seattle. It was a very early flight, and it was situations like this one that made her grateful she was a morning person.

Both nights she stayed at Chris and Ashley's place, she was the first one up. She would let Storm out, make coffee, and check on her pet sitter back home. This pet sitter was a gracious neighbor who had sworn not to disclose the illegal presence of the kitten to their landlord. Three days in, her promise was still intact— so far, so good.

Sam still had no clue what she was going to do with that adorable, tuxedo-wearing kitten. He was still nameless, which Sam felt bad about. Her neighbor had dubbed him "Tux" in the meantime in honor of his black and white fur suit, but the nickname didn't really sit well with Sam.

Deep down she knew she really should surrender the kitten to the no-kill shelter. She couldn't burden Mike and Jess or Chris and Ashley with another pet. Sam did recall Emily mentioning she was a fan of cats, but Matt was deathly allergic to them. Hannah and Beth had never expressed much interest in furry animals, since they had grown up with fish as their only pets. And Josh… well, Sam wasn't sure about him.

If she were perfectly honest, the selfish side of her just wanted to keep the kitten for herself, even if it made her homeless in the end. That cat was just too cute to resist.

Ashley was the next one awake on Sam's last morning there. She found her friend staring out the window over the kitchen sink, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug of coffee.

"Morning," she greeted her, grinning as she spotted another cup of coffee already prepared, as well as a third one currently being poured out of the Keurig for Chris. Sam never failed to think about others.

"Hey." Sam's voice was still gravelly from sleep, so she stole another long sip of the bittersweet liquid. "I just wanted to say… thank you so much for having me. Spending time with you and Chris was far better than sitting alone in a hotel room."

"It was our pleasure," Ashley assured her. "Besides, you've definitely returned the favor by giving us this lovely little girl here!"

Sam tilted her chin down, smiling as Ashley kneeled down to massage Storm behind her ears. "She's a pretty great dog," Sam agreed.

To the dismay of Sam and Ashley, Chris had somehow found and purchased the soundtrack to _Frozen 2_ (which had been even worse than the original) and tortured them with it during the entire drive to the airport. It was all in good spirit, however, and they spent the majority of the time poking fun at the childish lyrics.

As Chris pulled over to the drop-off curb at the airport, Ashley shoved a book into Sam's hands. "Here, for you, ya know, if you want to read it… I guess."

Sam glanced down at the glossy cover and read "Borne of Darkness." She repeated the title out loud in awe, then grinned gratefully at the redhead. "Thanks, hon. I'm sure I'll love it."

Unfortunately for Sam, by the time she got through security and glanced up at the board showing departures, she discovered that her flight was delayed by two hours. "Son of a bitch," she whispered. She had to resist the urge to stamp her foot like a temper tantrum-prone toddler.

She scanned the crowded walkway, hesitated, then dove back into the stampede. She was like a minnow getting pulled into a stream swollen with trout. She felt small.

Sam had always despised bustling places like this. They were suffocating, and so artificial. Screens advertising useless products flashed around her. Gift shops overflowing with cheaply-made San Francisco-themed merchandise caught her eye. Sleepy, irritable travelers guzzled their coffee like how a Hummer guzzles gasoline. Crying babies flailed their fists and whiny children pulled at shirt sleeves and yanked pant legs. Before that night on the mountain, this would have been Sam's idea of "horror." Now, however, she had wizened up. She knew what real horror was. Airports— well, they were just a minor nuisance. An annoying little wrinkle in the cloth of Sam's life.

On the other hand, Sam adored the great outdoors. She used to be so thrilled to go up on Blackwood Mountain, a place where the highest form of technology, excluding the lodge, was the cable car. Sam had been going up to the Washingtons' lodge with her friends for seven years when that night happened. The mountain had been a place of joy, a place where everyone always smiled. Unfortunately, as the years went by, Mr. and Mrs. Washington stopped coming up with them and trusted their children to invite more friends on their own. What a grave mistake.

The general rule at the lodge was to never go outside alone at night. That was an easy feat to accomplish considering everyone was usually too exhausted by nightfall, or— in later years— too wasted to dare go stumbling around in the woods.

Sam remembered the very first winter she was invited up to the lodge. She had known Hannah for about a year at that point, and her awesome new best friend had just invited her to her family's lodge in Canada for a long weekend.

 _"Come on, Mom!"_ Twelve-year-old Sam was practically on her hands and knees begging.

 _"Samantha, please."_ Sandra Giddings's voice was dripping warning like how raw meat dripped blood. She was seated at the kitchen table, bent over a stack of official-looking papers.

Sam knew what those papers meant. _Divorce._ The word still haunted her, nibbled and ate away at her heart. No more Christmases with all four members of their family. No more family hikes, no more late nights playing board games, or _Dance Dance Revolution_ matches that often got so heated, Sam and her brother would bet candy or their allowance money over a potential winner. It was all over.

But Sam wasn't having it right then. She pushed these troubling thoughts away and refused to look at her mother's pen gliding over the bottom of a paper, leaving her signature in cold blue ink. _"Moooom…! You met Hannah before, you've met the Washingtons. You said they were nice people! And you know Chris Hartley, that really smart kid in my grade? He's friends with Hannah's brother and he went up last year and he told me that—"_

Right then, her brother's voice piped up from the next room where he was playing some violent video game. _"Oh, GOD! Just say yes and make her shut up."_

Sam clamped her hands into fists, resisting the urge to go into the living room and smack her brother's face. She and Scott used to be so close, too, but now they were on good terms as much as their parents were. Sam had always been jealous of Hannah having a sister.

Their mother didn't appear to have much patience left. _"Fine! Whatever. Go to Canada with your friend. I just need to be alone right now, okay? I need to focus. Will you allow me that, Samantha?"_

Sam had raced out of the room cheering happily, and she "accidentally" hit the off button on the TV as she ran by it. Scott's furious yells faded into the background as Sam ran up to her room and slammed the door shut, opening her laptop so she could tell Hannah the good news.

The year after that, Sam had taken Hannah on a hike through her family's forest. They walked farther than any of the Washingtons had ever been, and it was amazing. Sam felt so in tune with nature. But that was also the year where she stumbled upon Bob Washington hunting down a deer. Hannah and Beth had crouched behind a bush, but Sam stood straight up, peering in fascination at the fearsome rifle her friends' father was toting around.

Mr. Washington was the kind of man who had two very clear-cut sides to him. He could be a famous movie director known for his critically-acclaimed horror and action/adventure films; he was the man who prowled across red carpets with the sleek confidence and gait of a proud, suit-wearing panther. Yet he could also be a wild mountaineer with dirt smeared on his cheeks and patchy, well-worn camouflaged clothes covering his body. Upon first glance, he would most definitely not be labeled as a millionaire.

His movie director side was the one Josh connected more with. His son was obsessed with gore and special effects, and he soaked up any tidbit of information his father gave up like a sponge. This was the main reason why, upon her initial introduction to Josh, Sam was somewhat freaked out by his extreme exuberance.

So with the fact that Bob was currently dressed as a true, full-blooded hunter right then, it made sense that Josh and Chris were back in the lodge, playing a virtual shooting game and pumping their bodies full of Cheetos and Hi-C.

The girls had decided to wander around outside, with Sam insisting they go on another long hike. Beth had only joined them because she was sick of seeing badly computer-animated zombie guts exploding on the screen in the lodge's theater room.

They were debating a hike when they came upon the twins' father, who was stalking through the woods he had purchased, blessedly alone. He had always been someone who seemed to prefer isolation.

 _"Is that gun real—"_ Sam muttered, but she was interrupted by an insistent grunt from Hannah, who was pulling on the edge of her friend's jacket so she'd crouch out of Bob's view.

Sam barely complied, and still stood a little higher than the sisters. Bob had his eyes narrowed, squinting through his rarely-used glasses. His balding head was covered by a camouflage cap. Then, out of nowhere, he lifted the rifle to shoulder height. The frosty forest was silent and still. Ice-lined twigs froze, squirrels huddled in their burrows. The distant call of a large bird dwindled to nothing.

The hunter fired. Two horrified hazel eyes followed the bullet as it embedded itself in the head of a stag. The animal, once proud and tall just seconds ago, now crumpled to the ground. Its heavy body crunched against the snow. One piece of its wide antlers snapped off.

 _"Ooh,"_ Beth murmured. _"It was an old one, if its antler just broke like that."_

Tears were already filling Sam's eyes. She turned toward Hannah and let out a wail. Words failed her.

Hannah blinked. _"Sam! Sam, it's okay… that deer was old and weak. It would be too feeble to survive much longer naturally—"_

They returned to the lodge, and Bob arrived a half hour later, bragging about his kill to his wife, who only offered occasional hums of admiration.

Sam sobbed behind her hands, crouched in one of the seats of the theater. Josh and Chris had beaten their video game hours before and had now moved on to a shitty horror flick. Josh used this opportunity to point out to his friend all the mistakes the director made, and how his dad would have improved on each scene.

When Melinda announced dinner, Sam tried to compose herself. Last night's spaghetti had been delicious. Tonight might be plain old cheese pizza, or maybe nice, crisp Caesar salads.

Nope. One of the two hours it had taken to prepare dinner was spent butchering the deer. _"You do like venison, right, sweetheart?"_ Melinda said to Sam as the kids entered the dining room. _"I asked your mother and she said you'd probably be fine with it."_ Ah, the ignorance of parents.

Beth winced at Sam's expression. Hannah nudged her friend's arm. _"It just tastes kinda gamey. It's good, I promise…"_

Sam glanced sullenly at the cuts of meat on the platter in the center of the table. Melinda was pouring milk into five glasses for each of the kids.

She felt sick all over again. She didn't want milk. She didn't want meat. She'd watched that deer get murdered. She didn't care if it was old, or if its lean, juicy meat would be the best thing she'd ever tasted. She couldn't even bring herself to look at it for too long.

 _"Um, I'm not hungry,"_ Sam announced abruptly. She turned away from the table, jogging through the great room and upstairs to the room she and Hannah shared.

She had pulled out her shitty flip phone— it was 2009, after all, and it was the best device thirteen-year-old Sam's mother would let her have— and used up all of her stored data to research vegetarianism and veganism. The words on the tiny screen were blurred by her tears, but they spoke so clearly to her. Her thumb, the nail of which was part of a messy manicure painted on by Hannah a few days previously, repeatedly hit the tiny buttons on the tiny keyboard. She wanted to know more. She wanted all the info she could get.

In the end, Sam decided to go vegan. She quit eating all animal products cold turkey. Her friends and family quietly accepted her decision. All it really meant was that she had to help out with grocery shopping and pack her own lunch for school every day. In her opinion, it was a small price to pay if it meant giving animals more freedom to _live_.

Now, all these years later, Sam was sitting in the middle of a crowded airport restaurant. She was tired of staring at her phone's screen, and was glad to remember she had Ashley's book in her bag.

She gazed at the attractive cover for some time, admiring its use of dark colors to give the scene it displayed a more ominous feel. Sam prepared herself to delve into the world of real horror. _If Ashley could handle writing this, then surely I can handle reading it._

The minutes trickled by, like icy drops falling off the tip of an icicle. Sam became lost in the book, lost in the terrifying and strange world Ashley had dreamed up.

It was quite obvious what Ashley had gotten her inspiration from— that went without saying. But a lot of her real life experiences shined through in her novel. It took place at a ski lodge, and involved several high school-age people.

It was different, however, in that none of the teens knew each other well. They all went to the same high school called East Lake High, but they were not friends. It was merely a class trip, and they'd all been selected to go on it.

One of the student's father owned the ski resort on the fictional mountain. It turned out that the owner's son, Clayton, was a savage killer who had stabbed his girlfriend to death and was out for more blood. The school trip was a trap, and many people fell for it.

Even after Sam boarded the plane, she still had the book open and in her hands. If it were a paperback, it would be dog-eared by now. At the place Sam was at right then, one of the main characters, Chrissie, had just gone down into a trapdoor in the dead girlfriend's bedroom in the creepy lodge.

" _I could already feel the cold dread rising up in me, like an ice cube falling down my back, as I crept down the dusty staircase. I could only pray I'd made the right decision by coming down here._

" _Then, out of nowhere, the trap door slammed shut behind me, stirring up clots of dust that blinded me. I was sent reeling the rest of the way down._

" _The place I ended up in was bizarre, to say the least. Several tools lined the walls— tools that looked like they belonged in a butcher shop. Meat hooks, hack saws, knives…_

" _Actually, scratch butcher shop. These things belonged in a psycho's workshop!_

" _I was oddly fascinated by these tools. Their icy metal glinted in the shadowy corners, beckoning me closer. I was just about to inspect them further when I heard a noise to my right._

" _'Shit!' I cried, panic engulfing me. I felt like I was drowning in an ocean of fear. If there was a psycho down here with me, then was no doubt he would scalp me with one of those spine-chilling weapons._

" _I dove under a nearby table, repeatedly swallowing so that my nervous whimpers couldn't be heard. My heart thumped against my ribs, like a bird wanting to be let out of its cage. I was just about to piss myself out of fear when the psycho entered the room, his heavy footsteps I had started to hear a minute ago now inches away from my nose._

" _As it turned out, my hiding place, though convenient, was not at all decent. Emotionless black eyes glared at me through a mask. They were dark, beady marbles of fury, and they wanted blood._

" _The man lumbered over to me, grabbing one of his screwed-up tools off the wall. He was weighed down by gear, but this didn't make him any less quick. I barely had time to react as he bent down, groping with his hook towards me._

" _I knew I had to think fast, and I'm proud to say I was able to. I fastened my fingers around the legs of a chair and shoved it at him. Everything seemed to play out in slow motion as the chair made contact with the psycho's chest. He fell back onto his grimy ass, grunting a muffled objection behind his mask—_ "

Sam was cut off by a smirking face in her peripheral vision.

Her gaze flicked upward briefly, and found that the man sitting beside her was staring intently at her face. Sam cleared her throat awkwardly. "Uh, can I help you?"

"You sure can, dear. How about you help me by giving me your number, hm?" He wiggled his eyebrows at her, clearly quite impressed with himself.

Sam groaned. _Of all the times and places to get hit on, it happens to me here, on a plane, where I'm stuck next to this slimeball for the next two hours._ "Thanks, but… no thanks," she sighed, digging her earbuds out of her carryon and plugging them into her phone. A few seconds later, the captivating melody of Mozart filled her head and provided the perfect background tune to Ashley's story.

And, luckily, the man didn't persist.

Chris had given Sam the address of the Target Josh worked at. Now here she sat in her rental car in the parking lot of the big box store, unsure how to make her next move. All she had left to do was go in there and surprise Josh. He'd told her the days he usually worked when it came up in conversation a few months ago, but what if he had the day off today? What if his shift just ended or hadn't even begun yet?

"Ugh, I'm such an idiot," Sam muttered, slapping her hand to her forehead. She leaned down against the steering wheel for a moment, preparing herself. _Deep breaths, Sam. You've got this. It's not like you've never been through worse things._

She stepped out of the car, shutting the door softly behind her and taking her steps carefully as if she were in a hostage situation.

The car chirped as she walked away— locked. Flecks of rain were already dotting the space on the windshield that had been cleared by the wipers. Sam didn't particularly mind the typical Seattle drizzle. The raindrops fell lightly, kissing her skin with the delicate touch of a butterfly. She could barely feel it.

Sam entered the store, and red displays filled her vision. The tempting salty odor of popcorn wafted over from the snack bar. Eager shoppers pushed around carts and sifted through the sale section at the front of the store.

Sam took a left towards the restrooms, scanning over the checkout lanes. Her eyes scoured every person wearing a red shirt and nametag.

Then, at last, she found him. He was grinning at a customer as he scanned her things, expertly dropping them into the paper bags while simultaneously scanning her credit card for her. His hair was smooth, recently trimmed, and a healthy blush colored his cheeks. This job didn't seem as bad as he made it out to be. Either that, or he knew what was coming.

It took a few minutes of her standing there for him to notice. By then, he'd already checked out two additional customers. He was repeatedly checking the time on the computer, so Sam instinctively checked the time on her phone. It was almost five.

And so it went on. Every time his eyes slid toward the computer screen, Sam checked her phone. After what felt like an eternity, 4:59 changed to 5:00 and Josh immediately hit a button to turn off the light in his aisle.

He turned to exit the station, and Sam lifted her hand in a shaky wave.

His eyes lit up the second he saw her. He looked like a kid in a candy store, and without an ounce of hesitation he ran over to Sam like she was the huge display of colorful lollipops.

Sam loved how blissfully oblivious he could be. He paid no attention to the numerous stares he received from running several yards across the store. Because he didn't care about the stares, she found herself not giving a shit either. It was wonderful to not have a care in the world. It was a freeing feeling.

He pulled back from the hug he'd buried her in and laughed. "Hey girl, are you Elmer's glue? Because I think you'd bond well with me!"

Sam's jaw fell open slightly, and the moth in her stomach fluttered. _Come on, come on, think of something._ "Hey boy, are you a steak on the grill? Because you are sizzlin' hot!"

"Good one," he praised. "Very good. You're getting better at shitty pickup lines." He paused, then suddenly became recharged with a fresh burst of energy. "Come on, my shift just ended, let's get the hell out of here," he told her breathlessly. His hand slipped into hers— a perfect fit— and together they sprinted full-speed out of the store and over the rain-slicked parking lot. As they ran, he ripped his nametag off his collared red shirt and pocketed it.

They came to a halt at an elegant little sedan. The glittering raindrops on its black paint gave off the appearance of a starry night sky.

Josh pulled out his keys, unlocked it, and opened the passenger door for her.

Sam noticed the Audi logo on the steering wheel and snorted. "This is _not_ your car!" she exclaimed, hesitating to get inside.

Josh arched an eyebrow at her. "Did you forget so soon who I am?" he teased.

"Oh, _right_ ," Sam admitted, throwing in a hint of faked disappointment to her tone. "You're a Washington, only one of the richest families in the entire universe. You work at Target and drive a fancy ass vehicle."

"Is that such a bad thing?"

"Depends," she countered, unable to prevent the smirk spreading on her face. He had moved to the other side of the car, and for a moment they stood gazing at each other as the rain began to soak into their scalps. Sam eyed his plump, kissable lips that were arranged into a sly smile.

And his eyes. It was crazy how easily she got lost in his eyes. Right now they were a darker green, like a pine forest. Sam could hear the rustle of the pine needles around her, and smell the unmistakable scent of pine sap that mingled in the fresh air. It was this vision that stemmed from her love of hiking in the wilderness. And all of this came from his gorgeous green eyes.

"Well, I guess we'll just have to come back and get my rental car later," Sam gave in as she lowered herself into the plush leather seat. Josh followed suit.

He hit the push button, and the engine roared to life. The screen on the dashboard also lit up, displaying the title of a Twenty One Pilots song.

As the beginning notes of the song filled the car, Sam spared Josh a glance out of the corner of her eye. His lips were barely moving, humming to the tune and mouthing the lyrics.

" _Heard you say… not today…_ "

"This is a good song," Sam commented.

Josh shot her a scowl. "You screwed up my beat, Sammy. Now I gotta start it over again."

She rolled her eyes. "Josh—"

But sure enough, he hit a button and the song began again. Sam stayed silent the entire time, focusing on the wet world outside her window. Cars blurred into smears of shiny reds, blues, and silvers. The black color of people's umbrellas blended with their black coats to form super tall mutant people.

Josh was leaning to the right and poking her arm. " _You waste all this time tryin' to get to me._ "

Sam stuck out her tongue at him.

" _But you are out of my mind…_ "

As the final chorus reverberated through the car, Sam sang along as well, having finally learned the lyrics.

She didn't notice Josh stop singing so he could listen to her. The song faded away, and he turned off the audio. "Sammy. Your. Voice. Is. _Amazing_."

"What?" She blinked at him, taken aback. "Oh, stop it. I'm not…"

When she trailed off, he finished her sentence. "… that good? Well, you are that good, so I dunno what you're talking about."

Luckily, Josh dropped the subject. It was at this time that it occurred to Sam that she had no clue where they were headed. "Josh, where are you taking me?"

"Out of the city," he answered simply. "I'm sure you're sick of being around so many other people, right? The claustrophobia...?"

"Definitely!" Excitement spilled into Sam's veins like some kind of Red Bull. She was energized.

The Audi turned out of the outskirts of the city and onto a more open road surrounded by knee-high grass rather than clusters of buildings. The rain began to fall harder, hitting the windshield with tiny _thunks_. Josh frowned at the droplets peppering the windows. "Damn." He turned to her. "Do you mind getting a little wet?"

He was pulling into a circle of gravel where a few other cars were parked. "I guess I don't have much choice," Sam admitted.

They climbed out of the car, and at last Sam noticed the view. They had been working their way up a mountain, and were now several hundred feet up. A low brick wall divided the small parking lot from the steep fall beyond.

"It's beautiful," Sam whispered. Together, she and Josh approached the wall, hesitated, and then climbed on top of it. Josh appeared almost dizzy when he glanced below their dangling legs, but Sam loved the thrill of being so far above the city.

Silence settled between them, an invisible cat snoozing in between their hands. After a few minutes of quietly admiring the view, Josh shoved the cat off the ledge and pulled Sam's hand into his. She nestled her numb fingers into the warm palm of his hand, grateful for the gesture.

"So… Chris told me you were coming."

Sam groaned. "Of course he would! That dumbass." She laughed. "You two just can't keep secrets from each other, can you?"

He failed to meet her twinkling gaze, so she tilted her face away from him, limiting her line of sight to the landscape, which was tinted blue-gray due to the rain clouds above.

"Nah," Josh finally responded. The word was sharp and brittle, like a frost-coated twig snapping under someone's foot. "It's true. Cochise and I tell each other everything. He was the first one I told about… well, my illness. He was the one I'd go and complain to when my sisters were being unbearable or when life in general was being unbearable."

Sam nodded wordlessly. Hannah was to her as Chris was to Josh.

"He also knows every detail of my first kiss. He even knows how I lost my virginity."

As Josh offered this information, his eyes gleamed. He angled his head so he could better look at Sam. It was clear he was hoping she'd ask for him to share, and she gladly took the bait.

"Oh?" Sam mused. "Tell me more."

It was like they were in high school again, where there were no limits. If somebody did something even vaguely dirty or risqué, they better bet their ass their entire circle of friends would know about it within a day. Everyone constantly boasted about their latest sexual endeavor. People would try to top the previous action, and the next person would try to outdo that. It was a big ridiculous contest that several of Sam's friends got sucked into, including Mike, Jess, Emily, and Josh. Sam, meanwhile, just tried to tune it all out.

"I was sixteen," Josh began wistfully. He reached up his free hand to his chin and stroked an imaginary beard. "It was some shitty party at some shitty person's house, and I was standing in the corner drinking shitty booze."

"Sounds fun," Sam remarked.

"Shush, shush, I'm not finished. So there I was, in the corner with my red solo cup of liquid fire, and Jeanie Simmonds saunters up to me with the most drunken, sluttiest smile on her face."

Sam felt bile rise in her throat. She knew where this was going. "Jeanie Simmonds? Oh, man."

"I know, right? I really scored." Josh grimaced. "So she asks me 'are you drunk' and I say, 'I dunno, I think so.' Now, keep in mind that during this she's calling me 'Drake' for some reason. She should've known my name considering I'd known her since second or third grade, but whatever. So she's like" — Josh began to very poorly mimic a valley girl voice— "'Draaake, let's go do it up in the guest bedroom!'"

Sam was doubled over in laughter, and nearly forgot that she was leaning off the edge of a steep mountainside. Josh wrapped an arm over her to keep her steady, then continued his story.

"So I said, 'Uh, sure, okay, I guess…?' and you know me, I'm like this fumbling mess, but I was thinking 'holy shit now I'll finally understand what those football guys are talking about in gym class!' So we went upstairs and we had sex and it was pretty horrible."

"Really? It was really that bad?"

"It _was_ , I swear! I guess it makes sense, considering we were two drunk, sweaty virgins fucking in the bedroom of some dude's house. And the worst part is, the door didn't lock, so some other couple who were already half-naked walked in on us." Josh shook his head vigorously, his eyes squinting as if he were trying to erase the memory from his mind.

It took a while for Sam to fully recover from her giggle fit. She hid her mouth behind freezing fingers and swung her legs, trying to control herself. "That was… a lovely story," she told him when she'd finally regained her maturity. "Goddamn."

"Aw, really?" Josh blew her a kiss. "Thank you."

And for just a few seconds, silence returned, slinking in and driving a wedge between them. It wasn't necessarily awkward, though it became slightly uncomfortable because Sam had a feeling of what was coming next.

"So… are you gonna tell me?" Josh murmured.

Sam gritted her teeth. The rain was picking up even more now, and the drops fell heavy like little pebbles on their skin. She decided to play dumb. "Tell you what?"

"How you… how you lost your V-card."

She shrugged.

"If you're not comfortable—"

"No, you're right. It's only fair if I do. Just…" This time she made sure she had captured his gaze. "Promise not to judge me. At least not out loud."

"I'll try my best," he promised, giving her an army salute.

Sam pressed her fingers against the wet stone, massaging the rough surface. "I was in college. Eighteen, almost nineteen." The words faltered on her tongue, but there was no reaction from him yet. "It was… between the first February 2nd and the second one. He was the first guy I ever said yes to, my first legitimate boyfriend."

Josh's nod at the edge of her vision prompted her to continue.

"So… basically I lost my virginity to a guy who didn't even care about me. It was meaningless." She swallowed back tears, though it wouldn't have even mattered if she cried because her face was soaked from the rain anyway. "It wasn't even his first time, either. Probably like his thirtieth."

Josh didn't seem to know what to say. He kept opening his mouth and closing it, like a clueless fish. Essentially, they had just told the same story— losing their virginity to someone meaningless— but he'd injected humor into his. Sam had somehow ruined the pleasant mood by making hers sound like a case of sexual harassment.

In reality, she had wanted it, and was very excited at the time. After rejecting guy after guy in high school, she'd finally seemed to have found someone decent who she wouldn't mind going all the way with. Theo was a cute guy, and he was a little bit older. Theo was a new person in her life, a fresh face. Theo wasn't her best friend's brother. Theo wasn't struggling with a misdiagnosed mental illness.

They were in his dorm, eating takeout, when he pounced on her. _"We should have sex,"_ he announced mid-chew. She accepted fervently. Her nerves were fueled by anticipation.

It hurt. Bad. Sam forced herself not to say anything because she wanted him, at least, to be pleased from the experience. Aside from the brief pain, she spent the entire time busy worrying about possible mishaps: what if the condom breaks? What if his roommate walks in on them?

This disappointing experience was further ruined when she discovered that Theo's current purpose in life was not to achieve an education, but rather to fuck every 'hot girl' who attended the school. Sam was just another one of his pawns, and she felt disgusted with herself for weeks afterward for being so foolish.

Theo wasn't her first kiss, though. Nobody, not even Hannah, knew who the first guy Sam had ever kissed was.

"I- I'm sorry," Josh mumbled, scratching the back of his head.

 _It was a late night at the lodge, the winter of 2011. She was fifteen._

"Why apologize? It's not your fault," she replied. Abruptly, Josh threw a comforting arm over her shoulders. Pellets of rain chilled their skin, soaked their clothes. Her hair was a sodden mess.

 _He was passed out in his bedroom. Alcohol swam in his veins, thicker than the blood._

The weight of his arm on her shoulders almost made her sleepy, though she knew she wasn't tired. Rather, she was soothed. She leaned closer to him, pressing her cheek against his broad shoulder. His flannel shirt was wet but warm.

 _Everyone else was passed out or in bed. She, being as young as she was, had refused to drink anything strong. Her senses were crystal clear._

The sky darkened, its blue-gray haze deepening into an inky black that matched the paint on his car. Her legs slowed in their swinging. Her feet were weightless, suspended in the air.

 _She wrapped her fingers around the knob of his bedroom door. Ever so slowly, it creaked open, and there he was, sprawled on top of the plaid covers. His ugly Christmas sweater— which was out of place considering Christmas was two months ago— rose and fell with each breath he took._

She could feel him moving, breathing. His heart danced nervously, inches away from her own. He inclined his head.

 _She was so curious. So, so painfully curious. Now was her chance._

His lips were practically grazing hers when she spoke. "I would've told you, Josh."

 _Her sock-covered feet glided effortlessly across the wooden floor with the gracefulness of an ice skater._

"Told me what?" His eyes were daggers, sharp and pricking her face. Concern was etched onto his face: worry lines between his eyebrows, a questioning frown.

 _She stood over him. He was completely asleep. He would never know._

"That I was in love with you." She stiffened as she said this, and his arm fell like a deadweight, tracing her spine.

 _She bent down, brushing a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. His lips were there, almost pursed, waiting._

"Oh." He cleared his throat, clasped his hands in his lap. "I've loved you for so long, Sam." His shoulders shook with grim laughter. "We would constantly pester Chris and Ashley to make a move. Why didn't we?"

 _She knew he wouldn't kiss her back, obviously. Yet touching his frozen lips still disappointed her. She wanted more. She wanted him to know, to understand. There was no way he could possibly like her, too._

She trembled. The rain was no longer pleasant. It was beating down on them, vicious, like needles jabbing at her scalp. Drops settled on her eyelashes, blending with the frustrated tears. "I don't _know_. Why the hell would I know?"

 _And so she backed out of the room, shutting the door softly behind her. Her first kiss was a secret for only her to know. She had been dying to know what he tasted like— and now that she knew, she wished he would've been awake to taste her._

"You were so good at hiding your feelings, Sam. I had no idea." Air rushed out from between his parted lips, but the following inhale was ragged, his lungs struggling in the precipitation.

"I would've said something, maybe…" She couldn't possibly structure this in a way that didn't make her sound like a terrible person. "If you weren't… if you weren't wrestling with your mind all the time. You were so good at hiding your struggles, too. At first."

His front teeth were digging into his lip. She was staring intently at him, seeking any kind of eye contact, but he refused it. "Sam, what if… what if you admitted how you felt? Maybe I never would've played that prank, huh? Never would've tortured Chris and Ash and my sister? Never would've put you through _hell_?"

Would've, would've, _would've_.

"Don't place the blame on me!" she seethed. "I was so— I was so _angry_ at you, Joshua. You were never really _there_. Never one hundred percent available. It was so hard for me!"

"I'm _not_ blaming you. I just wish things had been different!" His voice had raised several decibels so he could be heard over the patter of the rain.

God, what was it with them and rainstorms?

She couldn't take it anymore. She was suddenly freezing and soaked to the bone and upset. Her nerves were frayed. So she tilted her chin up and collided her lips with his. Immediately he returned the gesture. His hands cupped the back of her head, his fingers tangled in her hair. She rested her hands on either side of his jawline.

She could feel him pushing harder against her, and she submitted to his efforts, allowing him to flatten her against the wall. The slippery stone poked into her back, but he was too delicious for to take much notice. People were jogging up from the nearby trail to their cars, covering their heads with whatever they could find.

And then he stopped. Pulled back a bit. "Let's go back to my place," he breathed into her mouth.

"Yeah." She tried to catch her breath. "Let's do that."

* * *

 **Oops, this got really long. What is it with Sam chapters that make me go nuts? I guess it makes sense considering she's my favorite character, and Jossam is my favorite ship.**

 **Also, could you tell I loosely based the excerpt from Ashley's book on the PS3 prototype? If you haven't watched that gameplay yet, you should! It's really interesting to see what Until Dawn could've been.**

 **But anywaaaay. HAPPY NEW YEAR! 2017! I can't believe Until Dawn will be 2 years old this August. BUT that is still a long way off.**

 **Thank you so much for the reviews! Remember, feel free to PM me with any questions. I will be happy to answer anything and everything, because I know how confusing my writing can get sometimes.**

 **Love you guys, and see you next time.**


	29. Judgment

**Pittsburgh**

Balancing a tray of food on one hand while carrying a smaller tray of drinks in your other hand is much more difficult than it looks.

Jess weaved her way between crowded tables full of people munching on their hamburgers and salads. It was later in the night, so luckily the restaurant's traffic was beginning to thin out.

She approached a table surrounded by a hungry family. "Bacon cheeseburger, no onion?" Jess asked. A young boy lifted his hand, and she set down the steaming plate in front of him. Once every person was served, she moved on to the next table.

"Hello, welcome to Burger-rama! My name's Jess, I'll be serving you tonight." She plastered on a smiler wider than the Cheshire cat's and ensured that her voice was chipper as ever.

She spent the rest of the rush hour taking orders, serving hamburgers, squeezing in between tables, and rushing back and forth from the kitchen to the dining area. By the time the last of the dinner rush families had cleared out, she still had an hour left on her shift. Fuck it, she needed a break. She leaned against a wall in the back near the kitchen.

"This," she mumbled to herself. "This is what hell is like."

Jess had only taken this job while she waited on an answer back from the company she'd been interviewed by a few weeks ago. She and Mike needed all the money they could get, and snagging this waitress job had been a piece of cake. Jess was the poster woman for a perky, pretty young waitress.

One of her workmates, Alicia, marched past while lifting an eyebrow at Jess. "Falling asleep on the job already?"

Jess shot her a harmless glare. "I feel like I just walked head-on through a tornado."

Alicia's judgmental glance turned into one of sympathy. "Hey, if you want to take a longer break, I'll cover for you for a bit."

"No, no, I'm okay, thanks though—"

"You shouldn't be exhausting yourself in your condition," Alicia warned. "I remember with my first kid, I was on my feet all day working. You know what happened then?"

Jess had to bite back an infuriated remark. _Just because I'm new to this doesn't mean you have to give me "advice" every effing time we talk._ Alicia was particularly irritating with this. She was a Burger-rama veteran who was still at the bottom of the workplace food chain despite having worked there for fifteen years. Because of her "experience" in life, she acted like she knew every tidbit of information in the galaxy.

"What happened then, Alicia?" Jess muttered, not bothering to disguise her I'm-barely-tolerating-you-right-now tone.

"He was born with an extra toe on his right foot! Still has it now thirteen years later," Alicia explained. She grinned at Jess, though her teeth were mostly hidden by a large lip piercing. "Well, in any case… just let me know if you need anything."

Jess nodded so she'd go away. "Goddamn," she whispered once she was alone. She slipped into the restroom for a moment, scanning over herself in the mirror.

The restaurant's uniform included a tight red shirt emblazoned with the awfully ugly Burger-rama logo, which was an anthropomorphized burger shoveling smaller burgers into its mouth. The picture was actually quite morbid if you really thought about it— so Jess tried not to think about it too much. Cannibalism was not a pleasant topic in a burger restaurant.

She adjusted her black apron, which had pockets filled with her order notebook and a few pens as well as straws and other such necessities. She also reached up to fix her hair, which was pulled back into a high ponytail.

 _If Emily could see me right now._ She stifled a grim laugh. _"4.0, bitch. Honor roll. Suck on that when you're trying to sleep your way into a job."_

God, those words had really stung Jess, and the fact that it was her former best friend saying them had made their bite all the worse. But Jess was a professional at concealing her true emotions and thinking of a decent comeback. She could make it seem like insults bounced right off of her like a bouncy ball against pavement. _"Who needs grades when you've got all the natural advantages you can handle?"_

All the natural advantages you can handle. Ugh. _What happened to me and Em?_

Well, of course she knew what happened. _Mike_ happened. After years of oaths and pledges of "sisters before misters," in the end they let a guy get in between them. And it was all Jessica's fault. She still remembered vividly the night Emily caught her best friend and her boyfriend messing around. It was one of the worst nights of Jessica's life pre-mountain.

 _"Hey, Mike! Michael!"_ Jess spotted him from across the dining hall, and she broke into a full-on sprint between two long tables to reach him. She could feel eyes burning her, the weirdo running across the cafeteria, and some of the stares were accompanied by catcalls. Hmm, maybe she shouldn't have worn skintight leggings that day.

 _"Jess!"_ Mike greeted her cheerfully. _"What's up?"_

She waved a study guide in his face. _"You took this class last year, right?"_

He skimmed over the paper. _"Uh, yeah, I did. Why?"_

Jess stuck out her lower lip and slapped on her signature puppy eyes. _"I kinda need help studying for the exam tomorrow. Maybe you could… y'know, help me study? Please?"_

Mike flashed his own famous dazzling smile. Jess could picture him as a movie star, clad in a form-fitting tux, showing off his pearly whites to a million cameras as he strode down the red carpet. She snapped herself out of it just in time to hear his reply. _"Of course. How about you come by my place at like, 8:30?"_

Her heart was a butterfly. Wings flapped at her ribcage and tickled her stomach. _"Sounds like a plan,"_ she agreed.

Hours later, she showed up at 8:30 on the dot. She didn't want to seem like some Goody Gretchen who showed up at the exact right time, so she lingered out in the hallway for a couple minutes.

She was so engrossed in counting the number of weird brown stains on the ceiling that she failed to notice Mike open the door and stand, staring at her, for a long moment.

 _"Am I talking to the human Jess or the statue Jess?"_

Amusement dripped from his question, and she silently thanked the heavens she'd dusted extra blush on her cheeks— that way the real blush was mostly hidden.

There was something about Mike that made her want to always look impeccable around him. That something was, of course, called a "crush," but Jess knew that the moment Mike had laid a hand on her best friend, he became off-limits to her. Emily's man could never become Jessica's man.

Jess had really prettied herself up for a study session, of all events. She'd ditched her typical braid hairstyle, instead leaving her hair down and giving it a quick run through a curling iron. She also went all out with the eye makeup: eyeshadow, liner, mascara. Her lips were all glossed up with a delicate pink sheen.

Mike welcomed her inside his dorm, and he took in the thick stack of flashcards grasped in one of her hands. _"So that's all the study material you've got?"_ At her nod, he chuckled. _"Damn. You must already know this stuff pretty well."_

One of the most awkward laughs ever leaked through her grinning lips. Ugh, she sounded like _Hannah_. _"Haha, well, I was kind of hoping you still remembered most of this. I just made up these notecards really quick the other night."_

 _"Really?"_ Mike's smirk was playful and distrustful at the same time. _"YOU made those flash cards?"_

 _"Well…"_ She trailed off, paused. _"Fine. I stole them from the smart girl in class when she wasn't looking."_

Again he laughed as she handed him the cards. _"I knew that wasn't your handwriting."_ He motioned for her to sit on the edge of his bed, while he took the computer chair a few feet away. He scooted closer, shuffling through the cards as if they were preparing to play a serious game of Uno. _"Pete shouldn't be back for a while, so we've got plenty of time to study uninterrupted."_

Jess had always thought Mike was the messiest guy she knew besides her brothers. However, his roommate Pete's living habits made Mike's half of the dorm look as spotless as the Oval Office. The other side of the guys' living space was littered with crushed soda cans, and the tan carpet was stained with brown droplets of Pepsi.

Mike noticed her staring at Pete's trash-covered bed, and he sighed. _"I know, right. Can you believe he drinks Pepsi?"_ He shuddered, and she giggled.

 _"Yeah, that's definitely the main problem there,"_ she teased.

 _"Alright, so…"_ He glanced down at the flashcard on top of the stack. _"Let's start, I guess. Name the process which led to…"_

And so they studied. They were actually into it for a solid twenty minutes before their train of concentration became derailed.

Mike had been crunching his way through a bag of pretzel sticks, and he decided to place two sticks under his upper lip. _"I'm a walrus!"_ he declared, his words and smile muffled around the pretzels. Jess hid her grin behind curled fingers as he flapped his arms like an idiot. Flashcards flew in various directions, their importance suddenly forgotten.

 _"Dammit, Michael. You're acting like Josh!"_ She leaned back on his bed, yanking a pillow free from where it'd been tucked under the covers, and threw it at his face.

 _"Or Chris, or drunk Matt,"_ Mike pointed out, grunting in surprise as the pillow made contact with his face. Jess heard the pretzel sticks in his mouth snap. Seconds later, he had sent the pillow sailing right back at her.

She dodged it, expertly ducking under the line of fire. _"You're gonna have to try harder than that, buddy boy!"_

He crossed his arms, faking a scowl as he leaned back in the chair. _"Oh, is that so?"_ Without warning, he leaped onto the bed next to her, the mattress quaking under the sudden addition of weight.

He grabbed the other pillow and slammed it into her arm. She immediately retaliated, snatching up the first cushion and bashing it against his head.

Mike collapsed on his back, sticking his tongue out and waving an imaginary white flag of surrender. _"Man down, man down!"_

She beamed, brushing a blonde strand of hair out of her face. _"That was pathetically easy."_

He slapped the pillow over his face and groaned. _"I surrender my entire kingdom to you, Ms. Jessica the Pillow Fight Queen."_

She was almost too busy laughing to wonder if she was overstepping her boundaries with her BFF's boyfriend. _Almost_ too busy.

Emily would probably think they were getting a little too friendly. She had "accused" Jess of this before, though it had always seemed to be more playful than accusatory.

But, well, Emily definitely would never approve of what happened next.

Mike lifted himself up, cleared his throat, and wiggled his eyebrows at Jess. _"Well. I guess we should resume studying for your extremely important exam, hm?"_

 _"Yeah. The exam…"_ She couldn't help but watch his bare arms as he arranged himself into a sitting position. Despite it being November in Pennsylvania, he had on a short-sleeved white t-shirt which showed off his brawny biceps. Mike took his weight lifting very seriously; he went to the gym at least four times a week, and his arms definitely showed it. Jess swallowed hard. She clenched handfuls of his sheets in her hands. Oh, shit. She and Mike were sitting in a _bed_. Together. Just a few inches apart. What the hell was she doing? She was at least ten miles past overstepping the boundary.

 _"Right, the exam,"_ she spoke up abruptly. He had been strangely silent for the past few minutes while she'd been zoning out, yet she paid no mind as she bent forward to fetch a few of the flashcards from the floor.

His hand flashed in the edge of her vision, and then his fingers closed on the same stack of cards she had been aiming for. There was another loud gulp, though she couldn't quite tell who it came from.

Together, they lifted up the cards, his fingertips very close to her French-manicured nails. Jess felt like she was in a movie as they ever-so-slowly locked gazes.

They both dived in toward each other, ravenous as wolves. A good year-and-a-half of pent-up longing restricted by morality had built up a whole lot of hunger.

He tasted just the way she had always imagined, and it was phenomenal. His stubble scraped her skin, and she loved the burn. There was nothing tender or gentle about this kiss; in fact, it was more like a very rough make out session. She had succumbed to his weight, and was now under him on the bed, her wavy hair spread out like a fan.

The two of them were very accustomed to sex. The virginity ship had sailed long ago. Both knew just the right places to focus on, the sweetest spots that generated so much pleasure. God, he was flawless at this.

Soon after, she recognized the motion of him kicking off his shoes, and she didn't hesitate to copy him.

They were still on top of the covers when his hands found their way up her shirt. She curled her back up slightly so he could unlatch her bra and toss it onto the floor in one smooth motion.

Their lips were still fused together as she began to tug at the edge of his t-shirt.

And that was when a faint voice sounded through the closed door. _"Oh, Mikey!"_

The guilt that consumed Jess in that moment was enough to make her dizzy. There stood Emily, her best friend since eighth grade, her face creased and darkened by heartbreak.

 _"Emily!"_ Mike cried. His hands ditched Jessica's breasts and now sat in his lap, where he was wringing them furiously.

Pain stabbed at her heart with the intensity of a thousand needles. _"Em, I- I'm so sorry—"_

Emily was quick to throw on a mask of resentment over her pained face. " _'Sorry?'"_ she screeched. Jess and Mike cowered. " _'Sorry' can't even begin to cover this one!"_

By the time Emily had finished chewing them out and left, slamming the door behind her, all Jess wanted to do was hide under her bed for the rest of her life.

 _Ex best friend._ All of those years, gone, in the blink of an eye.

The first few minutes after Emily's departure were like that split second between stubbing your toe and feeling the burst of pain in your foot— tense and foreboding.

Jess dragged her eyes over Mike. His hair was ruffled, his t-shirt a wrinkled white sack hanging off his body. The area around his mouth was dyed pink as if he'd just guzzled a jar of strawberry frosting.

She had to break the tendril of sorrow stretched between his gaze and hers. _"Jess,"_ he murmured.

 _"We fucked up, Michael."_ She could barely bring herself to say his name.

 _"I know… I—"_

 _"Look, I should just… I really need to go, okay?"_ Jess tried to force the tears to reabsorb into her eyes. She snatched up her bra and slid her shoes back on. She would've taken her study material too, if it wasn't scattered all over the floor. So she left it behind and ran out the door, disregarding Mike's desperate yells behind her.

She failed that exam the next morning.

Back in the present, Jess was staring at the sink between her hands. She felt a bit nauseous, though she doubted it was morning sickness— those episodes had ended several weeks ago. It was just the mere memory of that night making her feel ill.

"Look at you now, Jessica. Waitressing in a burger restaurant." She nibbled on her lip and checked her phone for the millionth time just to make sure that company hadn't called her. They had warned her the wait might be long, but Jess had never expected it to be _this_ long.

No messages. _Goddamn._ She was just about to pocket the stupid device again when a message from Mike popped up. He had gotten home from work at least an hour ago, and was spamming her with selfies of him and Wolf.

The tears returned again, and she couldn't even tell whether they were joyful tears or sad tears. _Fucking hormones._ She typed out a quick reply, then returned out to serve the late-night creeps at the bar who never ceased hitting on her. It was a shame she couldn't drown her woes in a nice beer.

 _Jess: Love you_

 _Mike: Love you too, my chickadee_

A few days later, Jess and Mike were sitting in stony silence in the car. She was behind the wheel, her eyes glued to the road, while he kept shooting anxious glances out the window.

"They won't be upset, right?" he asked for only the fiftieth time that afternoon.

"I guess we'll have to see," Jess answered. She gripped the steering wheel tighter, her knuckles bone white.

It had all started a few days ago when they returned from the 20-week ultrasound. They came home with an updated sonogram to display on the fridge, as well as a vital new piece of information.

"So, would you like to know the gender of your baby?"

The technician's question hit Jess with the force of a bag of bricks. She squeezed Mike's hand, and he squeezed hers back. "Uh… well…" Mike stammered. "I guess we—"

"No!" Jess exclaimed. "I mean, not yet. I mean—"

A knowing smile glowed on the doctor's face. "Would you like me to write it down for you? Then I can put it in a folder, which you can open whenever you feel ready."

"Yes, that would be great! Thank you," Jess replied.

Hours later, they lay side by side in bed with Wolf snoring softly at their feet. Jess was curling her toes into his wispy white fur as she played with a manila folder in her hands.

"Jess." Mike spoke her name in a resigned exhale. "Should we just look?"

"No, no. Let's wait," she insisted.

He rested a hand on her arm. "Then why are you staring at the folder the same way Wolf stares at a steak?"

She shrugged. "I'm just curious and terrified at the same time. I can't put it down." The nervous shaking from her hands transferred to the folder, which seemed to be alive with its trembling.

His hand rubbed up and down her arm. "Well, what do you want it to be?"

"I don't _want_ it to be anything," Jess answered truthfully. "I'll be happy with either, I just… I still feel like I'll be disappointed somehow. No matter what we get." Two watery gray eyes flitted over in his direction. "What do _you_ want it to be?"

Mike fell back onto his pillow, which sighed softly as it sank under his head. "God, Jess, I dunno. I guess I always imagined a 'Michael Munroe the Third,' but it'd also be pretty cool to have a miniature Jess running around."

She chuckled. "So I guess we're happy either way."

"Yeah, exactly. So do you want to look?"

Jess blinked down at him. She could tell how deeply he wanted to just know already, and a big part of her wanted to open the folder too. And yet…

"Maybe tomorrow," she said suddenly, standing up from the bed and walking over to the dresser. She dropped the folder on top of it, hesitated, and then stuck it at the bottom of a drawer. When she returned to the bed, Mike was making a pouty face at her.

"Baaaaaabe, c'mon…"

"Night, Mike!" Jess said, reaching up to shut off the light.

She was woken at six the next morning not by the strip of sunlight slicing through the curtains, nor by the whining from Wolf wanting to be let out. Her morning wakeup call was the vibration of her phone. The device buzzed and tittered, slowly inching closer to her face with each ring.

"I thought I turned you off last night," she complained, lifting it so she could read the screen.

The name glaring her in the face was "Mom," and it took half a second for the panic to set in.

"Shit, shit. Fucking shit!" Jess got up as fast as she could, tossing her phone from one hand to the other like it was a hot potato. She stumbled out of the room, cursing the fact she was no longer as steady on her feet.

Mike was, shockingly, already up despite it being a Saturday. The tantalizing scent of bacon wafted in the air as it sizzled on the stove. Mike had one hand on the skillet, the other holding a fork and shoveling scrambled eggs into his mouth.

"Your eggs are on the table—" He stopped short when she thrust the phone in his face. "Oh. Your mother?"

"Yes, my mother!" Jess groaned. "She just loves to call at the crack of dawn on the weekend."

Mike's brows furrowed, and he paused in his chewing. "Yeah, that's nothing new. Why do you look like you just watched a murder take place?"

Her hands were so sweaty, she nearly dropped the device on her foot. "Michael— she… well, neither of my parents really know about the whole"— she gestured toward her midsection— "y'know, this new development."

She could practically see the hairs raise on his neck. "Jess! I thought you told them, like, three weeks ago!"

"Haha, I, uh… I kinda forgot to do that?" Her sentence came out as a question, and the only thing more awkward was the apologetic grimace on her face.

Mike's gaze landed on the phone, which was still buzzing in her hand. Damn, her mother was insistent. "Well, you never know. Maybe she won't invite us to their house or anything. She just might want to talk." When she didn't respond right away, he lifted his eyebrows. "You… you might want to answer that just in case."

Jess suppressed a whimper of frustration, and went into the hallway before finally pressing the green accept button.

"Jessica, honey! I was wondering if you'd ever pick up!"

The voice of Susan Riley, so familiar yet so cold and foreign, crackled out of the phone. Jess played with the hem of her t-shirt. "Hey… Mom."

"You don't sound very eager, dear. Are you alright?"

Jess briefly pulled back the phone to view the time, then returned the device to her ear with a quiet sigh. "It's 6:03 a.m. I'm not really awake yet."

There was a laugh. _Yes, I know, this is just hilarious, isn't it?_ "It's never too late to adopt early morning person habits. Do you know how early your brother Zachary gets up?"

"Hmm," Jess hummed.

"He told me he wakes at _three_ each morning to take an hour-long jog. Now isn't that something? It reminds me of this article I read on the Facebook—"

Jess had to restrain herself from banging her head repeatedly against the wall. "Actually, Mom, sorry to interrupt you, but I'm afraid I've gotta go right now."

"Oh—"

"Maybe you could tell me more about that Facebook article another time…?"

A delighted gasp tickled Jessica's ear. "How about you and Michael come over for dinner tonight?"

A minute later, Jess trudged back into the kitchen, where Mike was gnawing on a piece of bacon at the table. He smiled sheepishly and pointed at her full plate of eggs and bacon. "The bacon is _slightly_ burnt," he admitted. "But hey, Wolf likes it!" Giving up on the blackened strip of meat, he tossed it onto the floor, where the puppy swallowed it whole in 0.3 seconds.

She offered him a tiny grin then announced, "We're going to my parents' tonight."

They had spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon dreading the visit. Jess acknowledged she was lucky that Mike got along well with her parents, but he knew how they could behave if a certain subject really fired them up. The fact that he had conceived a child with their daughter out of wedlock, for example, might be one of those touchy topics. Even if it was no longer the 1800s.

Add in their clear disapproval of almost anything Jess did— she had once been dubbed the "family disappointment" by a particularly zealous aunt— and the entire situation became a ticking grenade ready to blow up any minute.

When it came time to leave, Jess made a beeline for her car. Before Mike could even question her, she called over her shoulder, " _I'll_ be the driver. That way you won't make an 'accidental' wrong turn on the way there."

Fast forward to them in the car, nearing their destination. Jess was originally from a small town near the Ohio-Pennsylvania border, until her parents uprooted her and her two brothers when she was in the middle of seventh grade. They were dragged kicking and screaming across the country, though the move ended up introducing Jess to the best friends she'd ever known.

Once their children had grown up and dispersed, her parents decided to return to their old town in Ohio. They even found a house for sale in the exact neighborhood they used to live in. Their new house was so hauntingly familiar to the one Jess had spent the first thirteen years of her life in, but it still wasn't the same place she knew and loved, even if it had an identical layout.

"Mike," Jess piped up after several minutes of silence. A _"Welcome to Ohio!"_ sign greeted them in a blur of green outside the window. "Just act calm, okay? Maybe if we're chill, then they'll be chill."

Mike crossed his arms and slid lower in his seat, the pasta salad Jess had prepared sitting in his lap in all its stinky glory. "Hopefully" was the only answer he gave.

After what felt like a century, they pulled up in front of the Riley residence. When the car motor was shut off, the silence was even more deafening.

"Well, we're either doing this or we're not. And if we're not, then we'll just be in deeper shit." Jess opened her door. "You coming?"

Mike nodded grimly, unbuckling his seatbelt and letting it slowly recede over his chest. "Yup. Let's do this."

Her mother opened the front door instantly after they rang the doorbell. She was faster than Wolf when he gobbled up a chunk of meat.

"Jessica, Michael!" Susan beamed, her teeth paper white against her dark red lipstick. She reached forward to pull them both into a back-breaking hug. "So nice to see you both. It has been so long since we had you over!"

Her mother shut the door and ushered them inside, taking the salad bowl out of Mike's hands. Jess noticed her mom's gaze linger on her a bit, and she squirmed.

"Sweetheart, have you put on weight?" Susan asked as she led them back toward the family room.

As blunt as the query was, it didn't take Jess by surprise at all. Last time, it was "Sweetheart, have you been getting enough sleep? You look so tired" and the time before that it was "Sweetheart, did you forget to put on makeup today?"

The first time Mike heard one of these questions, he'd thought it was a joke— it wasn't. Her mother was dead serious every time, and she always expected an equally serious answer of some sort.

Jess sighed. Each question always topped the last one, though this one just might be the worst in twenty-five years. "Yeah, Mom, probably," she muttered.

As they paraded through the hallway, she scanned over the multitude of framed pictures on the walls. 75% of the pictures were of her brothers and their family, and the other 25% was shared by Jess and the many family pets they'd had over the years.

One wall was filled with family portraits of Zach with his pretty wife and their two kids right alongside pictures of Brendan with his pretty wife and their son.

The other wall was dedicated to Jess, Fluffy, Pigeon, Bailey, Peanut, Ozzy, and Bella. Seeing a tiny picture of four-year-old Jess at her birthday party grinning at the camera with chocolate cake smeared over her face was cute. But seeing it surrounded by larger snapshots of cats and dogs who were at least ten years dead was somewhat disconcerting.

The last surviving pet her parents had was a grouchy tabby appropriately named "Grinch." Grinch preferred solitude over socialization— Jess hadn't seen the cat in the flesh in over five years, but her parents insisted he was still going strong at fifteen years old.

Susan disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Mike and Jess to sit on the couch in front of the television. The moment Phil Riley discovered plasma TVs, it was love at first sight. Most of his post-retirement days were spent lounging on his beloved old armchair— which had gone from Ohio to California and back— watching a sports game in crystal-clear quality.

"Hey, Dad," Jess greeted her father, patting him on the shoulder as she sat on the couch.

"Hello, Jessica. How've you been?" Phil replied. His eyes were trained on the 70-inch screen in front of them.

Jess and Mike exchanged a glance. On the car ride there, they'd decided to wait until dinner to make their announcement. "Um, we've been fine," she said stiffly.

Following an awkward twenty minutes during which Mike and Phil got into a heated discussion over the Pittsburgh Pirates, dinner was served.

In spite of all the usual annoyances that came with any visit to her parents' house, Jess could never resist her mother's cooking. Susan made a mean pot roast, and her mashed potatoes were exquisite. She had even gotten her children to eat Brussels sprouts by wrapping them in bacon and saturating them with maple syrup. In short, their dinner tonight felt like Thanksgiving in May.

Jess and Mike's announcement, of course, ended up not going as they'd planned. Susan went around the table pouring fancy red wine into the glasses at each place. Jessica's mouth watered when her eyes landed on the label of the wine, and disappointment flooded her as she remembered.

"Uh, Mom, I'd rather skip the wine tonight," she said, meekly grinning up at her mother from her seat.

An uproarious laugh exploded out of her father. "Are you being serious? You've never skipped out on a glass of wine!"

"Yes, I'm sure," Jess snapped more harshly than she'd intended. Mike's hand held hers under the table, and she relaxed for a moment until a knowing stare from Susan began to burn holes in Jessica's face.

"Do you have something to share with us, honey?" Susan demanded. One of her eyebrows lifted into a high arch, and Jess had learned enough over the years to know that look meant trouble.

She cleared her throat, and looked again at Mike. He took a long sip of wine, his eyes darting all over the place. Jess could see the beads of sweat forming along his hairline.

"Ahem. Yes. Yes, we do have some news t- to share with you," she began. Then her nerves crashed, and she crammed a forkful of potatoes in her mouth. Susan's eyes followed every movement of her daughter's jaws as she chewed and swallowed.

"Well, come on," Phil urged. "Just spit it out already."

Jess drummed her fingernails against her water glass. The _clink, clink, clink_ sound was making her go crazy, but she did it anyway. Then, over the irritating noise, she stuttered her way through one of the most nerve-wracking sentences of her life.

"Mike and I are having a baby."

She had squeezed her eyes shut while saying this, but they popped back open when it was over. Her eyes flashed from one parent to the other.

Her dad's jaw had dropped, and a fork carrying a piece of roast was frozen at only halfway to his mouth.

Her mom let out a long exhale. Her slender fingers were wrapped around the stem of her wine glass. She looked Jess dead in the eyes. "Wow. Okay. So you're…"

"I'm pregnant," Jess finished for her. She retrieved from her pocket the sonogram they'd gotten recently, and handed it over to Susan.

Phil leaned over so he could better view the photo. He seemed to have recovered, and a small grin sat on his face as he examined the grainy image. "Our fourth grandchild!" he exclaimed.

Susan nodded stiffly. "Wonderful."

Jess swallowed a mouthful of shitty pasta salad. "Yep. Twenty weeks. We don't know the gender yet, but…"

"We might soon," Mike put in.

And Jess thought that, just maybe, everything had gone perfectly for once. Her parents seemed to be taking it exceptionally well. It seemed as if all of their questions had been answered. Well, all except for one.

Susan motioned to her daughter's hand as she picked up her glass. "Where's your ring?"

Jess almost choked on her water. "Ring?"

"Well, yeah," Phil stated. "I mean, you two are having a kid. Surely you must be getting married before it arrives."

Jess swung her head around to glance at her boyfriend. Mike looked just as stricken as she felt. It was like her parents had just slapped their cheeks, scolding, _"Tut, tut! Marriage before children!"_

Their expressions probably said it all, for Phil and Susan shared a concerned glance of their own. "Sweetie, why don't you come with me to the kitchen for a moment," Susan suggested, standing up from her chair.

The women collected all the dishes from the table, and reluctantly Jess left Mike in the dining room with her father. Who knew what he was going to face in there?

Her mother had barely squirted the dish soap onto her sponge when she murmured, "This is what I warned you about, you know." She scrubbed a plate squeaky clean and handed it to Jess to dry.

Jess bit down on her tongue as she rubbed the towel over the dish. _Why can't we just talk about that article you read on Facebook, please?_

Susan went ahead and continued. "If only you were as dedicated to church as the rest of us are, you could've found a very nice man there and be married by now, just like how your brothers found their wonderful wives."

Jess nearly lost her hold on the plate. She almost wanted to let it fall and shatter onto the linoleum.

"I'm worried that you only stayed with Michael because of what you went through together. I understand that it was a very traumatic experience for you both, but that doesn't mean he has to be the love of your life, dear."

As Susan was saying all this, she went right on washing the dishes, gliding her sponge over pots and pans and squeezing soap bubbles over the crusted food residue. It was like she was talking about nothing more important than the weather.

"Well, here's another bit of _news_ for you, Mom," Jess seethed, slamming the plate onto the counter. "Mike _is_ the love of my life. He has stood by me through everything, and tells me every damn day how beautiful I am despite all of my scars! Oh, no, silly me— I just _swore_! Well guess what, Mother? I don't give a shit. Damn, shit, fucking shit motherfucking fuck!" As the look of horror spread on her mother's face, the satisfaction in Jess grew. "Whether you like it or not, my boyfriend and I are having a baby— yes, that's right, _boyfriend_. Not fiancé, not husband, boyfriend. And I'm sure as hell happy with that. This isn't 1874. Having a kid out of wedlock isn't illegal, Mother!" One last deep breath fueled her final attack. "You know why I haven't told you or Dad until five months in? I spent my entire childhood in the shadow of Zach and Brendan, and whenever I visit here I'm reminded of it. Will my kid get the same amount of attention as Zach's and Brendan's kids get? Probably not, seeing how even Fluffy has a bigger picture than me on the wall!" Jess threw the dish towel on the floor and wiped away angry tears. "You hated that cat, Mom. I mean, _really_?"

She marched out of the room, grabbing Mike on her way out the door.

It wasn't until they were twenty minutes away that Jess grumbled, "What did my dad say to you?"

"It doesn't matter—"

"Michael!"

Mike propped up his elbow on the window ledge, watching the scenery pass by in a smudge of green trees and gray pavement. "He said that I really should marry you 'before it's too late.' Whatever that means."

Jess pulled the car over into a gas station, and she leaned forward onto the steering wheel, sobbing incessantly. When Mike offered to drive instead, she gladly switched places.

He only returned to the road, however, once he'd emerged from the gas station with five small packs of sugary pastries. He dropped them in her lap, and she tore into the first one, sniffing loudly as she buried her face in the chocolate sponge cake. Icing rubbed off on her nose but she ignored it, knowing she was a mess anyway.

"Gained weight. _Psh_! No shit I've gained weight, Mom. There's a fucking person inside me," she growled. Crumbs landed on her lap, on the floor mat, in her hair. Her current appearance was vaguely reminiscent of four-year-old Jess covered in birthday cake.

"Babe, I love you so much," Mike told her. "Don't listen to what they say. The only opinion that matters is your own. Their judgment shouldn't dictate your life."

Two cakes later, she spoke again, only this time in a shaky whisper. "Mike…"

"Jess?"

"Promise me that we won't _ever_ be like them," she pleaded.

"Of course we won't!"

She was hunched forward, one hand holding up her head and the other hand resting on her belly. "I don't want our kid, boy or girl, to grow up like I did. Or like _you_ did. It's so goddamn unfair! I want our kid to feel loved, and appreciated, and I don't want him or her to feel like they're going to be criticized for every little thing they do!"

Mike's eyes landed on her for a second, and he reached out a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

"And I know we made a mistake on New Year's. We weren't being careful. B- but everything happens for a reason, right?"

Mike nodded. "Yeah. Who knows, maybe our kid will be the person to cure cancer."

A ghost of a smile appeared on her face. "Maybe they'll find world peace."

"Maybe _they'll_ be president one day."

They spent the remainder of the drive back home content. Mike rested his spare hand on her back and rubbed it. Jess leaned against the window and fell asleep that way, with crumbs all over her body and, on her gorgeous face, that little grin Mike loved so much.

* * *

 **I apologize for the long wait! It took me ages to crank out this chapter, and I stayed up until 1:30 am to get it finished. I hope you enjoyed the Mike and Jess fluff! One of my OTPs :)**

 **Thank you so much for the reviews and love! It means a whole lot to me.**


	30. Lights

**New York**

Emily was known for being a neat freak. Having grown up with three sisters, it was understandable that she wanted to distance herself as much as possible from messes of any nature. Even something as trivial as a tangle of earbuds pulled from the bottom of Matt's jeans pocket was to be detangled immediately. Emily's half of the bedroom, and her half of the bathroom, were always squeaky clean. The day Matt found even a single hair on her side of the bathroom counter would be the same day hell froze over.

Matt, on the other hand, was a walking mess. If Emily didn't have time to clean for a while (which was, admittedly, rare), his toiletries would become covered in a layer of unidentifiable grime. His side of the bed was never made when— or if— he got up. There was a permanent dent in his pillow and a slight slope on his half of the mattress.

Maybe his indifference toward dirt stemmed from his glory days on the football field pre-mountain. Some nights, after a particularly rough game, he would collapse into bed covered head-to-toe in dirt and sweat without bothering to shower at first.

So, naturally, it came as a shock to Matt when he found, of all things, an actual junk drawer in his girlfriend's dresser. It was actually more of a junk box that was hidden under a thick, padded blanket of folded clothes from her winter wardrobe. Emily was a crafty one; she'd even thought to drape a few shirts on top of the box to better conceal it. But these covers couldn't fool a very bored Matthew Taylor.

His day had begun with him waking up on the couch. He didn't really remember how he'd ended up there, though the empty beer bottles scattered around him like chunks of debris after a disaster gave him a small clue.

He only briefly wondered why Emily hadn't picked up the bottles like she usually did. She was probably busy getting ready for work— wait, work?

Matt jammed his hand in between the sofa cushions, groping around until his fingers closed around the cool metal of his phone. When he turned it on, the stupid thing was at three percent and the flickering screen stayed alive long enough to tell him that the time was 11:43 in the morning.

He left his sanctuary to go plug his phone in. Emily had the charging cords all neatly coiled up like thin white snakes, and he unraveled one with a grunt, shoving the double-pronged end into the wall and leaving the device to rest on the floor.

Emily did well for herself— Matt acknowledged it as just herself because, after all, he knew he was technically a freeloader. Well, a freeloader with benefits at the least.

Her success showed in their apartment. Emily had barely spent a week of her life in one of those typically tiny New York City apartments. She'd worked her way up the company hierarchy to the point where she was only a few places under the CEO, which was impressive for her age.

So there Matt stood, in their luxury New York apartment that could fit ten of those typically tiny city apartments inside it, making himself a microwave meal.

He retrieved the beat-up box, which could easily be a year or two old, from the deepest frozen depths of the freezer. The front of the box boasted a delicious-looking, healthy portion of parmesan chicken with a side of perfectly-shaped peas and carrots.

But of course, not all promises could be kept, especially after a year spent in the back of the freezer. The chicken breast was almost unrecognizable under a thick layer of frost. The bleached peas and cubed carrots were so freezer-burnt, they looked like a weird type of dry dog food. In all truthfulness, they were probably dehydrated enough to have the consistency of dry dog food.

But Matt had practically resorted to cracking through the ice with a hammer to reach the box, and he wasn't about to let his efforts go to waste. He followed the instructions on the back of the box, roughly sliding the food tray into the stainless steel microwave, which sent ice crystals scattering all over the marble countertop.

He only gave an annoyed grunt at this, sliding the rapidly-melting shards away with his arm, and plugged the appropriate time into the microwave before jabbing the "start" button with his thumb.

The first thirty seconds of cook time were spent staring through the window, watching the continuous rotation of the tray. The frost on top of the plastic cover gradually melted into a puddle of water that dripped over the edge onto the floor of the oven.

It took that small bit of time for him to grow bored, so he straightened and began to wander away from his pathetic excuse for a meal. His gaze momentarily snagged on the wedding invitation hanging on the fridge. It was printed on attractive gold and white paper, the font a delicate and curly script.

 _Please join us_

 _for the wedding of_

ASHLEY BROWN

 _and_

CHRISTOPHER HARTLEY

 _on Saturday, June 26, 2021 at 4 pm_

 _at the Francisco Gardens Plaza_

 _452 Henrietta Street, San Francisco, CA_

 _Reception to follow_

Emily had already sent out her and Matt's RSVP a few weeks ago, so there was no need to worry about that.

He wandered out of the kitchen, allowing the dull, monotone hum of the microwave to fade behind him.

He faintly remembered Emily mentioning to him at some point yesterday that he needed to put away some of his clean shirts. He stepped into the bedroom, and sure enough there were a few of his t-shirts, laundry fresh and neatly folded on the corner of the bed.

He gathered up the layers of soft cotton now tainted with the scent of Emily's favorite "ocean breeze" detergent. Matt crammed the shirts onto hanger after hanger in his closet, smelling each shirt as he put it away.

Enjoying the whiff of artificial ocean breeze that had been stirred up in the room, Matt turned to go so he could return to his prison food.

That was when he noticed a bottom drawer in Emily's dresser was sticking out slightly, exposing some of its contents. Emily _never_ had a hair out of place when it came to her dresser and her shoe closet, so this was an absurd sight to see.

Matt stuck out a foot and tried to push the drawer closed, but somehow it ended up completely falling out of the space. A sharp corner of wood landed on his foot, and an angered f-bomb whispered its way past his lips.

He bent down to shove the drawer back in its place, but that was when he'd noticed the odd unevenness in the folded sweaters. That was how he had ended up sitting with a box of Emily's old possessions on the floor in front of him. His freezer-burnt lunch was long forgotten.

With a next to zero chance of Emily coming home soon, Matt knew that he would be completely safe sifting through the box's items as long as Emily didn't scan the things later for fingerprints. Hmm, maybe he should put on gloves first?

 _Nah,_ he mused, reaching in and examining the first object. Then he pulled out another thing, and another. He began to sense a common theme, and went on to overturn the box and dump everything it held onto the rug.

Most of the things were old photos that were severely creased from being folded up for so long. Every single one of these pictures contained Emily and Jess, though they were sometimes accompanied by others in the group.

Matt picked up some of the most intriguing images. The one on top of the pile was a selfie Emily had taken with Jess. The picture was too faded for him to discern the background, but their smiling faces made it unmistakable that this was taken pre-Mike drama.

On the back, " _Laguna Beach 2012!_ " was crossed out with thick lines of permanent marker. Scribbled underneath in Emily's slanted handwriting was " _Lying Bitch 2012_." In his mind, Matt could hear Emily's forked tongue spitting out those venomous words. That was far from the worst name he'd heard Emily call her ex best friend, but " _Lying Bitch_ ," written so neatly in red ink, still stung Matt despite the insult not even being directed at him.

The next picture dated back to their high school days— or, really, the tail end of them. It was the day of Matt, Jess and Ashley's graduation. In the foreground under a "WEST LAKE CLASS OF 2014" banner stood Mike, Em, Matt, and Jess. The latter two donned the dorky graduation gowns and caps in their school's colors of blue (Matt) and white (Jess). Ashley was at the edge of the picture in her own white gown, engaged in conversation with someone who's face was just cut out of the picture.

Matt flipped over the picture, and found it formatted in the same way as the previous one. The original caption, " _Matt, Jess, Ash graduation! 5/30/14. Mike, Me, Matt, & Jess_" was firmly crossed out and replaced with " _Munroe the Fuckboy, Queen, BF, & Whore._"

Well, then. The only appropriate nickname there was "BF," but Matt was almost disappointed Emily hadn't thought of a more elaborate name for him.

The final picture he looked at was from eighth grade, as evidenced by the glint of silver braces that stretched over Jessica's smile like miniature railroad tracks. That was the year Jess met Emily, who was a freshman in high school at the time. Jess then introduced Matt and Ashley to her, and over the next year the three youngest got to know the rest of the group.

Jess and Emily couldn't have known each other for more than a couple months at the time the picture was taken. Matt vaguely recognized the dining area of the café they used to hang out at after school behind them. Sam and Hannah were giggling about something in the next booth. Beth was turned around from where she'd been facing them, her face frozen in an exaggerated grimace as she flipped off the camera in a snarky photobomb. Fifteen-year-old Josh sat next to her, his eyes crossed and his tongue flopping out of his mouth like a panting dog's.

It was so strange to see their faces, still so bright and fresh and youthful. No stress lines, no gray hairs, no scars. These were the very early days of the ultimate friendship that none of them ever saw coming.

Matt still remembered the day he first met Jess. She'd recently moved across the country from Ohio, though to her credit she was really outgoing and making an excellent effort to find friends.

Matt and Ashley, who had a history of friendship going back to second grade, were walking in the hallway together when Jess caught his eye. His first thought was _Wow, that girl is pretty_ and his second thought was _Oh, shit, she's coming this way!_

All it took was Jess introducing herself to Matt and Ash for an instant attraction to spark.

Matt pushed the memory away and turned around the picture; its original label was just " _3/24/10_ " and a heart. That had since been crossed out and replaced with " _Wish I could forget._ "

He was already surprised enough to see that Emily was quite the packrat when it came to Jess-themed stuff, but he could barely believe his eyes when they landed on Emily's old cellphone.

He had to push away a few other BFF mementos (tarnished best friend necklace with half of a broken heart as the charm; old notes passed back and forth in class; various birthday gifts; etcetera, etcetera) to find it. It took a double take, or maybe even a triple take, to truly believe what he saw— sure enough, there it was, in all its scratched-up glory.

The silver iPhone 6 had gotten severely damaged during the night on the mountain, which made sense to Matt after he heard how Emily fell several far distances during her escape from those hellish mines.

The black and white floral case was cracked almost into three pieces, and the screen was an intricate spider web of cracks. A few chunks of glass were missing, but miraculously the phone still worked when Matt tried to turn it on.

Despite being a few phone generations old, the device flickered to life in record time. It was only charged to twenty-two percent after who-knows-how-many years of disuse, but it was enough for Matt to be able to explore a few apps.

The one app he was dying to check out over all the others was, of course, the messaging app.

The last text Emily had sent on this phone was a little over six years ago in April 2015. It was something to him, and the next several messages were to her parents, her sisters, and old coworkers. All the way at the bottom of the list was Jess. Matt was mildly shocked that Emily hadn't renamed Jessica's contact as "Bitch" or "Slut" or even a grimacing or angry emoticon. Or just deleted her number.

The messages were all outgoing, and they dated to November 2014.

 _Emily: Congrats, ur officially the worst human on the planet_

 _Emily: Fuck you._

 _Emily: Just couldn't keep ur hands off my man, could u? what a slut._

 _Emily: I'm not really surprised, tbh. you've had ur legs spread wide for years. I should've known_

 _Emily: Dont ever talk to me again, bitch_

There was no reply from Jess— either that, or Emily had deleted whatever she'd said. Matt shuddered, and right away he shut off the phone.

He sat for a moment on the rug, running his gaze over all of the things that commemorated Jess and Emily's friendship. He traced his thumbnail over the shattered screen of the iPhone, but then his stomach grumbled, and he was reminded of the tasteless parmesan chicken that was currently sitting in a cold microwave oven.

Matt didn't really register any guilt from looking though his girlfriend's private things. The only thought that stuck with him was that Emily was clearly not over her "breakup" with Jess.

He sighed, placing all of the old objects back in the box and shoving it back under the sweaters, then sliding the drawer back into place. He wondered if Jess felt the same way.

 **San Francisco**

"You better not be taking me someplace creepy, Christopher," Ashley lamented.

They were in the car, driving somewhere unknown to Ashley. The blindfold Chris had tied over her eyes was only made of cloth, but he'd tied it so tight it felt like duct tape blocking her vision.

"Hmm. Define creepy?" Chris replied.

Ashley felt the car make a sharp turn, and she scrabbled to grab onto an armrest. "I dunno. A graveyard? A mausoleum?"

He chuckled, and she relaxed slightly as his hand briefly rested on her arm. "Don't worry, hon. We're not visiting King Tut's tomb today, I promise you."

For the next few minutes, the radio blasted 90s pop, which filled the contented silence. Ashley was about to open her mouth again when she noticed the front of the car shift upward and begin to ascend up a steep hill. She was pressed back in her seat, and after a very familiar bump rattled the SUV, she suddenly knew exactly where they were headed.

Another minute passed, and the car rolled to a stop. Chris shut off the car, and "Wonderwall" faded away along with the rumble of the engine. Ashley's cheeks burned.

" _Chriiiis_ ," she sighed, sounding annoyed yet still displaying a shy smile on her face. "Why did you bring me here?"

Chris waited until he'd helped her out of the car and they'd walked several yards before answering. "I thought you might want to see this."

There was a jingle of keys— how in the world had he obtained private entry to this place? — and then Ashley was guided through a door. The breezy night disappeared behind them, replaced with a comforting warmth.

Then, at last, her blindfold was removed. Ashley blinked hard, adjusting her eyes to seeing again. Once her vision had finally adjusted, she gasped, slapping both hands over her mouth.

Just as she'd suspected, he'd taken her to the Francisco Plaza. It was far more beautiful than the last time they'd been here, however. All of the overhead lights were turned off, bathing the cavernous main room in gray blobs of shadow. The only source of light was from the moon overhead, as well as a few simple strings of white lights hung high above, which glowed down on them like watchful eyes.

Everything was quiet. Ashley could almost hear the lights sparkling. She glanced down at the floor, and glimpsed a trail of rose petals leading up the aisle. The aisle _she_ would be walking down in almost a month's time.

Her heart jumped into her throat as her eyes moved from one rich red petal to the next. They ended in a large pile at the back of the room, which was elevated a bit from the rest. Enormous windows stretched up behind the altar, tall as trees and displaying the brilliant moon.

"I can't believe we'll be standing there," she breathed, stealing a look in his direction.

Chris shot a lopsided grin at her. His ears were already blushing red. "I can't either. But it'll be great. C'mon!"

He grabbed her hand and took off running down the aisle, between the stacks of folded-up chairs. Rose petals fluttered upward as the couple breezed by. Ashley felt like she was in a scene from a romantic movie as they sprinted along, carefree and blissfully alone.

Chris pulled her down into the pile of rose petals on top of the altar. They cuddled close together, staring at the moon, which stared back with the same affectionate yet foreboding intensity.

"It's beautiful," Ashley murmured. The moon's glow splashed a rippling bluish light over their faces and the white floor in front of them. The rose petals looked purple.

"You're beautiful," he responded. She tilted her neck, grinning and blinking up at him with wide eyes. He smirked back, reaching up a hand to wipe away a petal from where it had nestled in her hair.

His lips captured hers in a passionate kiss that sent sparks of joy tingling up her spine. The tiny lights high above lolled in her vision— humming fireflies— before she closed her eyes, giggling and smiling.

It felt so good to be happy.

* * *

 **Wow... 30 chapters! I cannot believe I've made it this far, but it's all thanks to you guys. As of this update I have 30 favorites, 37 follows, and 50 reviews. This support means so much to me, and I would love to personally thank all of you for loving this story. Every view, every bit of feedback, makes me feel better as a stressed young writer. I am glad to see so many people who are just as enthused about this amazing game as I am!**

 **Thank you, thank you, thank you SO MUCH! I will never be able to say it enough. Love you guys!**

 **-E**


	31. Flannel

**Seattle**

Josh could barely contain himself as he and Sam piled back into his car and sped off into the drizzly night.

It took all the willpower he had not to climb back on top of her at every red light. Out of the corner of his eye, he could tell she was struggling too. Her fingers fiddled with her seatbelt buckle. She twisted a curl of wet hair around her index finger.

He could taste on his lips whatever lip balm she was wearing. As he guided the Audi through tight city streets, he tried to determine what the exact flavor was. Raspberry, maybe, with a hint of watermelon? There was definitely berry in there— ah, fuck it. He would be getting a fresh sample in due time.

Josh's apartment complex could be considered luxury, though he preferred not to think of it in that manner. He used to bask in his family's fame and fortune, but his brief stint in college and adulthood in general had taught him that money isn't everything. His "fancy ass" car was a gift from his parents, and having it made everything more of a hassle. He had to find a parking spot in the neighboring garage, sometimes having to drive all the way up to the roof. It was easier when he just used to take the subway to work or, hell, walk there.

He avoided taking his parents' cash whenever possible. In the cases of a gift, such as his car, there was really no dodging that bullet. At least he could credit his promotions at Target to his own hard-earned laboring. Fuck college, and fuck money. He could do this all on his own. Totally.

Josh drove the black sedan down into the basement of the parking garage, and immediately his headlights highlighted an empty spot. _Perfect,_ Josh thought, excitement building up within him to a skyscraper level.

One quick elevator ride later, they were at the front door of his apartment. Josh fumbled with the keys while his nerves buzzed and sent an overdose of adrenaline to his brain. He could feel Sam right beside him, and hear her too— her pulsating warmth and short, excited breaths.

Then, at long last, the door fell open. The panting pair stumbled inside as Josh kicked the door closed behind them.

His apartment was nothing special, and it was usually a pigsty. But when Chris "casually" told him that Sam was visiting, Josh didn't hesitate to clean up his place just for her. Sam had never been as tidy as, say, Emily, but at the same time Josh knew she would give him a hard time for living like a farm animal in a perfectly nice apartment.

He watched as Sam scanned over their surroundings, taking a few more tentative steps into the front room. Hazel eyes flicked from the flat screen to the lumpy sofa to the small kitchen in the back.

"Nice place," she said.

He tilted his head to the side, studying her carefully. "Thanks." He shifted closer to her, sliding one arm around her waist. "Soooo. Where were we?"

She grinned, standing on her toes to better reach his face and once again joining her lips with his. Something was different about the way she kissed him this time, however. It was rough and sloppy, unlike the previous ones.

There was zero doubt in his mind that she wanted him, and he wanted her just the same.

He was able to lead her back into his room with his eyes open for just a split second so he could find the doorknob. And still she pressed against him, her breath coming in warm puffs on his cheek. Her hair was down and hanging in half-dry clumps, falling in his face and smelling wonderfully like the rain.

Josh was so into the make out session that he was still kissing the air for a half-second after she pulled back.

"Josh," she whispered urgently.

"Hm. What?" He licked his lips, tasting the residue of her lip balm. Raspberry, definitely raspberry. He wanted more. He craved it like a drug.

"I— I really need to tell you something." Her words shivered, and he spotted the spark of guilt in her eyes.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, and to his delight she joined him. Even so, she sat gingerly as if she were expecting a thumbtack to be on the comforter. "Okay," he prompted. "Shoot."

Sam rubbed her hands over her bare arms. They'd ditched their sopping wet jackets at the door, and now she was in nothing more than a flimsy tank top. He loved how much of her the shirt showed off, though it sucked that she was cold. He reached out an arm to cuddle her, but she wouldn't accept his advances.

She exhaled without much hurry, and closed her eyes. "I… I did something a few months ago, and I swear I didn't mean for it to happen, i- it just kinda… _did_. But I hated it, and I still love you, I just—"

"Whoa, whoa, Sammy. Slow down. What did you do?"

"I kissed someone else." The spark of guilt hiding in those green flecks blossomed into flames. "I'm sorry," she rasped.

Josh was frozen. He coughed the dust out of his throat, and quickly receded his arm from her shoulders. "Oh."

Sam gazed at him. "It was like two weeks after I got back from Seattle, and my jackass coworker made a move on me. I- I will admit that I didn't reject him right away, which was _horrible_ of me, a- and—"

Josh let out a breath, his lungs sad and deflated pink balloons. "I- I mean. It's fine."

Her brows wrinkled. "'It's fine' never actually means it's fine. Josh, please— I should go…"

She stood up so fast, Josh was surprised she didn't break gravity. "Sam. Come on. What even is this?"

"What?" she demanded.

He lifted his arms up, quickly letting them drop back onto the squeaky mattress. "What is this we're doing here? Are we _actually_ boyfriend and girlfriend, or are we just… fucking around like we're in college or something?"

"As far as I was concerned, you and I were in a committed relationship." She crossed her arms— not a good sign. "What, did _you_ mess around with someone else in the past few months?"

Josh snorted. "Look who's talking. You're accusing me of doing shit— which, by the way, I didn't— when you're the one who apparently 'cheated' on me."

Sam watched his fingers form quotation marks as he said "cheated." The green flame in her eyes was now a full-blown forest fire. "I'm _sorry_ , Josh," she whispered. "I just thought… well, clearly you're not too concerned with this relationship, so… guess I shouldn't be losing any sleep over it either."

His eyebrows lifted. "Losing _sleep_? Christ! We haven't even had sex yet! Or, we were going to, until you decided to drop this bombshell with just the _perfect_ timing."

"So that's all you care about here?" Sam hid her face behind her hands for a second, and when she removed them, any trace of affection was completely wiped away. "All you're focused on is getting into my pants? What a surprise!"

"Sam, that is not all I care about. You're a gorgeous person, but you have so much more beyond that, and I want to explore it, I want to explore you. Unless you're just down for just fucking, then…"

She cringed, whirling around and heading for the open door. "Just… _stop_ … stop saying that word!"

"What? Fuck?" He chuckled. "Like you've _never_ said that word before. What, am I tainting your fragile ears? Soiling your spotless reputation? Don't make me laugh any more than I already am, Samantha."

Sam halted, and Josh saw her lean muscles stiffen. She still had that nimble figure, and those legs, and that ass… Josh refused to swallow his pride, however.

He knew he'd just struck a nerve. He rarely used her full name, and he definitely hadn't called her "Samantha" since that night. No matter how much other people called her that, he always tried not to because he knew how much it annoyed her. But, on the other hand, it was a good weapon in an argument.

"Sam, listen to me. You never straight-up said I was your boyfriend, and I never straight-up said you were my girlfriend," Josh said, patting his chest as he went on. "I… I didn't know if this was a serious thing or not. You've gotta understand, I have been in maybe one committed relationship my entire life. I'm not really… _used_ to something like that."

She shook her head slowly, perhaps in disbelief. Mostly dry blonde strands fell in her face, and she brushed them back irritably. "Y- you're not?"

Josh dipped his head. "I've messed around with my coworkers, too. I even did the deed _at_ work once, but—"

"Wait, you… you _what_?"

As the look of alarm spread over her face, Josh's inner panic grew. "It wasn't anything, though! It didn't mean anything. It was New Year's, we did stuff in the breakroom closet, and when it was over it was over. No biggie."

Sam appeared to be at a loss for words. "You had sex in the breakroom closet at Target?" At his nod, she continued. "Who the hell— who the hell does that?"

"Hey, I said—"

"Yeah, you _said_ , Josh. You've said plenty. I can't believe I thought I could trust you! I thought I could tell you anything, I thought I could share myself with you, I thought…"

He had never seen her this flustered, except for the few minutes she feared for her life during his disguise as the psycho. Her hair was frizzy; her eyes were wild. A look of deep hurt was scored over her stunning features like claw marks.

"I wanted to give you a chance," she whispered. "I stayed away from you for six years, Joshua, because I wanted to give both of us time to heal. You secretly filmed me naked, you"— she began counting on her fingers as she listed offenses— "you stole my clothes, you chased me around a freezing lodge, you knocked me out with dangerous gas, you hid so much from me when I thought you'd told me everything. You let me believe in you."

Josh leaped off the bed and stood rigid a few feet in front of her. "I _loved you_ , Sam. And I still do. I know I did fucked up shit, but it was only because I loved you so damn much. You were going to be the hero, somewhere in my fucked-up mind. I wanted to bring Chris and Ash together, I wanted the others to pay for their prank on my sister. I wanted you to be the heroine, the Elena Fisher, the protagonist of my story. I know I wasn't right in the head on that night. I regret what I did every time I take a breath. After six years, I've changed. I have my life on track!"

Sam didn't answer him. She was wavering in the doorway, one hand pressed against the wall, the green shards in her gaze melting into darkness. Josh was able to glimpse a single tear trace a wet path down her cheek— Sam, _crying_ — before she disappeared in a flash from the apartment, snatching up her rain jacket as she went.

Josh didn't hesitate in taking chase, but she was still the same Sam who never failed to escape his reach during the games of tag they'd play when they were twelve years old.

He raced down the staircase, his feet flying over the steps like they were made of slippery ice. She was already gone, a barely visible blur in the drizzle.

He made his way back up, not bothering to use the elevator. It wasn't until Josh had reentered his apartment, slamming the door shut behind him, that he noticed something on the floor that wasn't a fast food wrapper.

Of course he couldn't have noticed it before stepping on it and hearing a sickening _crunch_. Josh knelt down and picked up the two pieces of a plastic bracelet. The thing was cheap, dark blue and chipped from age. He pressed the two halves together to read the rough etching on the sides. The words were barely legible, carved by shaky twelve-year-old hands.

 _HANNAH & JOSH & SAM & BETH – FRIENDS 4 ALWAYS_

What was this, Cinderella? As the girl flees, she leaves behind a crucial possession for the guy to find?

It only twisted the knife in Josh's heart to see the bracelet broken. The thing that penetrated him the most, however, was the knowledge that she still wore the bracelet after almost fourteen years. How had he not noticed before?

Hannah and Beth had lost their bracelets long ago, either by accident (Hannah) or by "accident" (Beth), but Josh— well…

He pushed back the sleeve of his thin t-shirt to reveal a green bracelet of the exact same style. It was hidden among a few other beaded bracelets which he shared with his siblings, but that one had never once been removed since the summer of 2007.

Josh knew what he had to do. A few dots of gorilla glue could fix this puppy right up. He would make it up to that Sam Giddings, even if it killed him.

 **Pittsburgh**

"Amelia?"

"Eh…"

"Simon?"

"No way."

"Thandie?"

"What the hell kind of name is that?"

Jess glanced up from her laptop screen while rolling her eyes. "What's wrong with that? It's cute."

Mike let out a low whistle. "Not in my book, hon. Sounds like a type of disease. 'Oh no, she's caught the thandies again!'"

She groaned, balling up her napkin and throwing it in his direction. It bounced off Mike's head and landed on the floor, where he picked it up before Wolf could make his move and end up with a mouthful of tasteless paper.

"You're hopeless, you know that?" Jess complained.

"Hey, I just believe that when we actually _see_ our kid in person, then we'll know what to name them," Mike retorted.

Jess returned her stare to the screen, her index finger sliding over the mousepad as she scrolled. "Knowing us, they'll be nameless for two years before we agree on something."

Mike rose from his place across the kitchen table and shuffled over to stand above her shoulder, scanning over the name website. "Quincy?" he shuddered. "These poor children."

Jess swatted him away. "Shush."

"Jess, you do realize," Mike began as he leaned forward, dangling his arms over her shoulders and nuzzling her soft hair, "that this would be much easier if we knew the gender?"

"I know, I know," she sighed. Mike could sense the evident touch of hesitation in her voice. He would give anything to just look in the damn envelope himself, but he knew that would only earn him a one-way ticket to the couch. He had no clue what was causing her such reluctance to find out the sex.

Mike gazed at her fondly. "It's been two weeks…" he tried to argue, but his objection was weak, and it died on the vine.

Jess exhaled in a huff, clumsily getting up from her chair and ambling over to the counter. Mike watched her intently, mesmerized.

She was definitely showing by now, there was no doubt about that. Even so, her stomach was a bit small considering how far along she was. It was still at the point where, when the two of them went to a baby store, they were asked "Who are you shopping for today?"

Add to that the impending wedding, which stressed Jess to no end because she wanted to "not look like a bloated elephant" in front of their newly-reacquired friends. Deep down, Mike knew she was mainly concerned about her appearance around Emily in particular, though she would ever admit it.

All these thoughts reminded him that they were going to San Francisco in a week already. Jess echoed his exact thoughts a few seconds later.

"Shit, we really should start thinking about packing," she mumbled around a mouthful of chocolate chip cookie.

Mike leaned forward to take a cookie from the package, popping it into his mouth and grinning. "Ugh. Can we worry about that later?"

She pulled him in for a long kiss, cookie crumbs falling down their chins. "Alright, fine, Mr. Munroe. You win," she murmured.

"That wasn't a very hard battle to fight, Ms. Riley," Mike replied as he nibbled on her lip teasingly.

She severed their connection with another cookie, sliding it into her mouth with a muffled giggle. "You calling for a rematch?"

"… maybe I am." Mike rested against the counter and shot her a seductive smirk. "What are you gonna do about it?"

"I'll show you later," Jess hummed breezily, locking eyes with him for a few moments as she batted her eyelashes. " _After_ you go to the gym."

Mike's shoulders slumped. He had completely forgotten it was a gym day. "I think getting it on with you will burn plenty of calories," he tried.

Jess lifted her hand, waving him away. "Save it, Romeo. I'm gonna go get dressed, and if that shirt you like still fits, you can peel it off me later." She met his puppy eyes firmly. " _Later_."

"You're killing me!" Mike lamented, but he knew the truth as well as she did. If he skipped one day at the gym, he would end up skipping the next one, and the next one. So he slipped into his workout clothes, grabbed his gym bag, stepped into the warm early afternoon day, and climbed into his little blue car.

The gym was, as usual, filled to the brim with skinny babes and men with muscles so big, it looked like they had defined the shape of their abs with a Sharpie marker.

In fact, Mike and Jess really could blend into this mix if they wanted to. She used to come with him, but stopped after getting catcalled too much. Mike promised he would defend her, but she preferred jogging around the neighborhood, though that had slowed with the advancement of her pregnancy.

Mike wasn't too into working out anymore, though he kept reminding himself that he didn't labor and sweat under dumbbells that were at least his body weight for nothing. He had to maintain those arms, if anything. Over the years, his six-pack had been reduced to maybe a two-pack, and the muscles in his legs weren't quite what they used to be. So he might as well keep the big biceps.

Mike settled down in a back corner and began lifting. It took approximately four seconds for a cluster of girls to notice him. They were probably only in their early twenties, but Mike still felt so much older than them. The two ladies who sauntered over to him had shitty tans which made their skin look like the inside of a dried out sweet potato.

"Hello there," Girl One drawled as she and her friend stopped in front of him. Mike glanced up; he could see the sharp angle of her hipbone poking through her short shorts.

"Hey," he grunted, not interested for many obvious reasons. Mike chewed on his lip, trying to focus on keeping his hold on the weight in his left hand. Three fingers could not grip twenty pounds as well as five could.

Girl Two bent down, staring at his bad hand with a mixture of awe and disgust. "What happened to your fingers?"

Mike glared at her triangular face, at her orange skin, at her limp, over-straightened hair. "Accident."

The girls exchanged puzzled looks. "Well… let's go to the sauna, I'm sure you'll feel better in there," One suggested arrogantly.

"I have a girlfriend," Mike muttered.

"Aw, that's a shame. You're too cute to resist," Two gushed.

Mike let the weights fall from his hands, and they angrily slammed onto the foam pad he was standing on. "Listen well, ladies. I'm not interested. Capiche?"

Again, like two baffled puppies, they shared a glance. Clearly, they weren't used to getting rejected, and didn't exactly get the memo.

"'Scuse me," Mike grumbled, picking up his bag and moving around them on his way to the front desk.

 _Twenty-five is too old for this shit._ Mike leaned forward against the desk, cracking his knuckles and keeping a straight face. "Yeah, I'd like to cancel my membership, please…"

Mike sped back home, barely complying with any of the red lights he hit. As he floored the Mazda through a yellow light in as safely a manner as possible, his thoughts drifted.

After the mountain, Jess developed a fear of opening up. Her old self— a flower fully in bloom, petals unfurled— had suddenly reversed all progress, receding and curling tightly into a bud.

But Mike worked his way through the protective cover she'd placed over herself. It was exactly two years after the mountain— February 2nd, 2017— when she was willing to show herself to him.

 _"You're the only person I can trust,"_ she told him.

 _"I trust you too,"_ he responded.

It was the beginning of a long weekend; they were at Mike's mother's house, just days before her cancer diagnosis.

It was strange for Mike, having his girlfriend in his childhood bedroom. It was as foreign as seeing a penguin in the Sahara Desert.

He was laying on his small twin bed, and she was sitting in a beanbag chair in the corner.

 _"I think I'm ready, Mike,"_ Jess whispered, the words a faint breath on her lips. Before he could question her, she stood up and crawled onto the bed, gently grazing her lips against his in a tender kiss.

By then, he knew her well enough to realize what she was implying. No more playful banter: sex was a serious subject between them now. It was also a long ago memory, a forgotten and dusty library book sitting high up on the shelf. They hadn't done anything since before that night.

He sat up a little, breaking the kiss so he could gaze into her eyes. They were gleaming gray orbs, glossed over with a teary blue sheen. Worried, but determined. _"A- are you sure?"_ Quickly he remembered where they were. _"With my mother downstairs?"_

 _"Unbutton my shirt,"_ she mumbled.

 _"What?"_

She sat back on her shins, brushing her hair back over her shoulders. _"If you don't do it, then I'll never be able to."_

His eyes raked over the soft red flannel top she was wearing. He'd seen it on her a few times before, and he loved the way it hugged her curves, but hated how she always had it buttoned up to her neck. God, how he longed to rip that flannel open.

He swallowed lightly, moving his fingers to the top button. As he undid it, the fabric of her shirt fell open slightly, and he saw her collarbone. A sigh rushed out of her, barely audible, fainter than air being let out of a balloon.

One by one, very carefully, Mike nimbly dragged his fingers from one button to the next, his eyes expanding as he uncovered another inch of skin, another bit of treasure.

It soon became apparent that a bra was not involved in this situation. He gazed at her bare chest, taking it all in, and not paying any mind to the red and puffy scars. It was then he realized how much his patience had been worth it.

Mike couldn't hold himself back much longer. His jeans were itching to be shed. His t-shirt was suddenly too restrictive, clinging to his body like an unwanted second skin.

She initiated another kiss, and he melted into it, tasting her with every taste bud on his tongue. He helped her shrug the red flannel the rest of the way off, and tossed it aside.

Mike snapped out of his trance when he realized he was sitting in the driveway of their house. Shaking his head slowly, Mike made his way upstairs, but Jess was nowhere to be seen.

"Jess?" he called out, dropping his bag and furrowing his brows in confusion.

She didn't have to answer, for it took him half a second to arrive in their bedroom. She was stretched out under a thin white sheet, completely naked, golden blonde hair draped over her pillow.

"The shirt didn't fit," she told him with a frown, motioning over to a familiar well-worn red flannel folded on a chair.

Mike stared at the shirt, at the memory it sparked within his mind. "Hey, that just makes my job easier," he comforted her. "Now, I hope you're prepared to smell my… stinky gym shirt!"

The last three words were spoken in a raised voice while Mike whipped off his shirt, balled it up, and threw it over at her.

"Michael!" Jess shrieked. She sent the sweaty shirt sailing back in his direction, but he dodged it effortlessly. "Are you going to come here or not? And if you stink that bad, I'll just breathe through my mouth."

Mike smiled, leaping onto the bed and meeting her mouth with an amused chuckle.

In the end, patience always paid off. And it was so, _so_ worth it.

 **San Francisco**

Ashley danced nervously from one foot to the other, every now and then blinking up at Chris.

The antsy pair was standing in a terminal of the airport, waiting for the long-anticipated arrival of their friends.

"I can't wait to see them again," Ashley commented, standing up on her toes and squinting past the security machines for any recognizable faces.

"I know, Ash, that's the umpteenth time you said that," Chris laughed, resting his arm behind her back. "I can't wait to see them either."

* * *

 **Sorry about the awkward ending! I didn't want this entire chapter to just be all fluffy/angsty kind-of sex stuff, so I decided to add in the four lines of Chris and Ash. The next chapter will, of course, expand on that scene.**

 **I'm not too happy with how this chapter turned out, but I wanted to get this updated on the 2-year anniversary of the game's events and, in canon, 3-year anniversary of Beth's death. RIP girlfriend :(**

 **But yeah, like I said, I'm never all that comfortable writing intimate scenes, but at the same time I feel they add some emotion and substance to the story, so I'll continue writing them. Don't ever expect any smut here however, because that's not the kind of stuff I do.**

 **The only part I was really satisfied with was the Josh POV, since I found the Mike POV kinda forced and awkward. Ah, well, who knows. I'm just ready for the group to be all together again, and I promise that's what will happen next chapter. The wedding's getting close, guys!  
**

 **So that's all I have to say for now. As always, thank you so much for the love and support! Hopefully you all are enjoying all this soap opera drama. Stay tuned for Chapter 32...**


	32. Miracle

**San Francisco**

Ashley danced nervously from one foot to the other, every now and then blinking up at Chris.

The antsy pair was standing in a terminal of the airport, waiting for the long-anticipated arrival of their friends.

"I can't wait to see them again," Ashley commented, standing up on her toes and squinting past the security machines for any recognizable faces.

"I know, Ash, that's the umpteenth time you said that," Chris laughed, resting his arm behind her back. "I can't wait to see them either."

 **Two Weeks Before – Seattle**

Sam was a mess. She streaked over the sidewalk so fast, her feet were barely touching the ground. Rain battered her face and pelted against the cars and people. Ugh, she was so sick of the rain.

She had no idea where in the city she was. The only thing she knew for sure was that she wanted to get the hell out of it. The buildings around her felt like they were getting taller and closing in with every step she took. People running by, hunched under umbrellas, were dark and intimidating monsters clad in black.

 _Where the fuck is Target, where the—_

Sam slowed down suddenly, yanking open the door of a small corner store. Harsh fluorescent lights scowled down at her, singeing her eyes and making her sweat under her sodden jacket.

"Hey," she breathed, marching her way up to the checkout counter. A teenager with a constellation of pimples on his face glanced up from his phone, and his eyes nearly bugged out of his head.

"Y- yes, miss?"

Hmm, he had the personality of a very peppy rock.

"You know where the Target is?" Sam demanded, wringing out some of her hair before slopping it back into a sad excuse for a ponytail.

The teen plastered on an equally sad excuse for a sexy smirk, and leaned back casually against the cigarette display behind him. "Nah, I'm afraid not, girl. Though I _do_ know where my number is." He withdrew an old gum wrapper from his pocket and scribbled down his number. He slid it across the grimy counter toward Sam, finally finishing his embarrassing pickup line. "My number's right there. For you to pick up." Sam gazed at him impatiently, so again he leaned forward, sliding the wrapper a bit closer. "Right here—"

"Listen kid, I'm twenty-five. There's gotta be at least a seven-year age difference between us, so… I must kindly decline," Sam said, swallowing an irritated sigh. She'd barely had the willpower to let this idiot down easy. "Anyway, are you absolutely sure you don't know where the Target is? Because—"

"Turn left outta here, go straight, two rights, and you're there," the teenager grumbled, cramming the wrapper back in his pocket as his cheeks turned a deep enough shade of red to conceal his zits. Sam had a moment of déjà vu to Chris in high school during his many failed attempts to ask Ashley out.

"Thanks!" Sam made sure to blink at him with genuine gratefulness before exiting the shop. Maybe if she had the time or patience, she would've tried to comfort him a bit, or do something to help cushion the blow to his ego. But right now, she had no time and her patience level was in the negatives.

She followed his directions, and thankfully the teen hadn't been bitter from her rejection and did in fact give her the correct route. Unlike some other people, he wasn't focused on revenge.

Sam unlocked her rental car and felt like a literal walking puddle as she splashed and squelched into the driver's seat.

She started the engine and plugged the address of the nearest and cheapest hotel into the car's GPS. Sam had stupidly been counting on Josh to let her stay at his place.

She hated that messed-up bastard so much, and yet she couldn't extract him from her mind. She loved him. She'd been about to sleep with him. But, as usual, she had placed her trust in someone who was too unstable to be trustworthy.

"Shit," she muttered. Her stomach was growling like a provoked lion. This emotional rollercoaster she'd been riding for the past hour had completely pushed the notion of food out of her mind.

Ten minutes later, Sam was back in the car with two armfuls of snacks from Target. As she crunched through her carrot and celery sticks like the dedicated vegetarian she was, a message suddenly popped up on her phone.

 _Ashley: Hello, everyone! Chris & I have some awesome (& very last minute) news about the wedding. Chris recently got a small promotion at his new job, & we now have the extra money to pay for more people to come. Another accidental plus: we ordered way too much food from the caterers (thnx again Han LOL). Soooo as a result, everyone is now welcome to bring a date or a plus-one of some sort. This is completely optional, but we're just letting u know that any extras are welcome because the venue definitely has the space for it. Thnx for reading this huge block of words! See u all soon. Love, Ash & Chris (P.S. Feel free to call us with any questions, this is totally random so we get it :P)_

Sam swallowed her bite of celery and, before her thoughts could catch up to her furiously typing thumbs, she had a text sent out.

 _Sam: Congrats, Chris! This is great news, guys. I think I'll bring someone from work._

She froze, staring in horror as her message was delivered. "Well, now you've said it, Sam. Ya might as well follow through," she mumbled to herself.

Sam scrolled through her contacts until a familiar name drifted into view. Forgetting any pride and dignity she had left, she once again glided her thumbs over the tiny keyboard.

 _Sam: Hey. Wanna go to a wedding with me?_

And… sent.

What was she thinking? No, actually— she wasn't even thinking at all. She had officially gone insane, and now there was no going back.

 **One Week Before – Green Bay**

Beth had just spent an entire day dedicated to the beautiful art of Netflix, popcorn, and M&Ms. She was wearing a comfy hoodie that she'd basically been living in for the past forty-eight hours, and it was covered in crumbs.

Leaning forward off the bed, she shook the crumbs off before collapsing back onto her wrinkled and squished pillow. "Hmm," she mused. She'd just finished watching her fifth murder documentary, and she was thoroughly scarred for life. She had a sudden urge to lock all doors and hammer boards over all the windows.

She knew just who to call for comfort. Beth dialed up Josh on Skype.

 _Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring…_

"Dammit," Beth sighed, quickly sliding the cursor over to the red cancel button. _Okay, then. Maybe Hannah's available…_

 _Ring. Ring—_

"Beth?"

There she was. Beth hadn't seen her twin sister in a while, but Hannah looked pretty much the same. Her hair was a bit longer, and rattier. Truthfully, she looked as if she'd spent the entire day in front of a screen as well. Her glasses looked abnormally large when they'd slid all the way down her nose.

Beth frowned, studying her more closely. "Were you crying?"

"What? No!" Hannah quickly shifted her glasses back up, though that didn't do much to disguise the red puffiness of her eyes.

Beth crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. "Girl. C'mon. Don't lie to me."

Hannah shook her head vigorously, like a puppy trying to remove its cone of shame. "It doesn't matter anyway. Forget about it," she insisted.

"Hannah…"

No response.

" _Hannah_ , Hannah Banana… dude, we shared a womb together. You can tell me anything." None of Beth's pleas were answered. Hannah was more stubborn than she remembered.

"Can we just change the subject please?" Hannah begged. She had some type of shawl or blanket draped over her shoulders, and she pulled it tighter around her body.

Beth groaned, but relented. "Ooookay. Um. Do you have a plus-one for the wedding?"

Her sister nodded while brushing a stray brunette strand out of her face. "Yup. This guy named Vincent."

"Is he nice?"

"Yeah, he's alright."

"Is he… _cute_?"

Long pause. "… I guess," Hannah answered.

Beth snorted. "Okay, well… I think I know who I'm bringing."

Hannah lifted her eyebrows ever-so-slightly; a classic gesture of hers that implied her interest.

"I- I think I'm gonna ask this girl I met a few weeks ago. Her name is Olivia, and she's really sweet—"

"— wait, but the others don't know that you're—?" Hannah asked.

"I'm sure they figured it out ages ago, Han." A tiny grin formed on Beth's face as she blinked warmly at her sister. "I mean, didn't you know all along?"

 **Five Days Before – New York**

It was good, Emily thought, that Matt was out of the apartment. It had been ages since she had the place to herself. And, besides, as the less selfish side of her pointed out, it would likely be beneficial for him to breathe some "fresh" NYC air.

It was early in the morning on one of her personal days from work. It was eight AM, and still no calls from her boss for her to come into the office— so far, so good.

Emily wandered from room to room, putting on a casual show for an audience of zero. Meandering and meandering, until at last she stumbled upon her bedroom.

As usual, Matt's side of the bed was just as unkempt as his half of the bathroom. Emily shuddered, but moved past the mess, refusing to let that capture her attention and ruin her morning. There were far more important matters to deal with first.

Kneeling down, she tugged open the bottom left drawer in her dresser. The compartment fell open with an alarmingly smooth motion, as if the space it sat in had recently been greased down. Either that, or a certain somebody had snooped.

The very thought of Matt going through her personal box made her blood boil. _He has NO right—_

Emily stopped herself, forcing a deep and steady breath through her lungs. _Calm yourself. No need to get worked up over this stupid box._

The barely-soothing words drifted through her mind as she pulled the box out from under the layers of sweaters. None of her possessions appeared to have been tampered with, though it really was impossible to tell for sure.

One by one, Emily pulled out all of the items. The photos— branded with new, quite apt captions— and her old phone, and the friendship necklaces and bracelets, and the old notes passed back and forth in class.

"I hate her," Emily whispered. She picked up a note from some point in high school. One edge was uneven, ripped off of the corner of a calculus worksheet.

 _Feel like i'm in the 90s passing notes to you LMAO_

 _Tell me about it. Mrs moyer sucks, can't believe how strict she is w/ phones_

 _So you still on for the cafe after school?_

 _Hell to the yes, def need a break from all this school shit_

 _Agreed._

 _BTW did U get the notes for wentzel's class? Pretty sure I fell asleep_

"I hate her," Emily repeated. She threw the note to the side, not bothering to finish reading the conversation. There was no point— she'd memorized it ages ago. She couldn't remember important shit for work, yet her brain always had space for Jess.

Nothing made Emily cry. She'd been to many funerals in her lifetime, and not a single one made her shed a tear. But the night she lost her best friend? She cried like a baby over the steering wheel of her car.

Forgiving Mike had been far easier, somehow. Hell, the bastard even kind of flirted with her on that horrific night on the mountain. Emily had ditched Matt to follow Mike down the path, having thrown some bland excuse at her boyfriend that he, not so shockingly, believed. Matt could really be a, well— a doormat… sometimes. And Emily would walk all over his doormat personality when she had the opportunity.

 _"Mike!"_ she hissed, squinting down the dark path. Ugh, would the Washingtons ever fix the lights here? Only the moon shed any light on this part of the trail.

 _"Emily?"_ Mike spun around. He stood in a patch of moonlight that was broken up by branches overhead.

Emily jogged up to him. _"Listen, Mike… I know that Matt tried to lay it out for you back there, but… I wanted to do the same on my own terms."_

Mike was silent, gazing at her patiently.

 _"You chose Je—"_ Her voice caught in her throat. She couldn't even bring herself to say her ex-best friend's name. _"You chose her over me, and I get that. But i- in light of what happened here last year, and the really mean-spirited prank we pulled… I mean, I think we should really clear the air, and make sure you and I at least are good, because—"_

 _"Em."_ Mike stepped forward, suddenly close enough for her to feel the warmth of his breath. _"I am really sorry for what Jess and I did to you. I— we never meant to hurt you. She and I… it just… it kinda happened, y'know?"_ Emily nodded, and he went on cautiously. _"I honestly can't believe how kind you're being right now. I expected the worst from you during this weekend."_

 _"We were drifting apart for a while, Mike. You and I probably weren't meant to be. And while I wish it wasn't her you chose in the end… maybe it's for the best."_

Mike grinned gently, tilting his head somewhat while Emily's heart sped up. _"Thanks for understanding. I'm glad we're on the same page."_ Pause. _"That's… that's, a… uh, cute coat you've got on."_

Emily glanced down at her black fur-lined winter coat. _"Thanks."_

She wasn't quite sure what was happening, but then his hands were on her cheeks. Neither leaned in, but she could sense the hot buzz in the few inches of air between them. Emily backed up, shaking her head slowly. She couldn't sink to Jessica's level, no matter how sweet the revenge would be. _"Boundaries, Michael,"_ she reminded him. With a curt nod, she spun around and headed back up the path, trying to ignore the aching feeling in her chest.

Jess was different, and she was so much more difficult to forgive. That was why no effort had ever been made. And so, as Emily sat on the floor of the bedroom, with so many ancient artifacts of their friendship surrounding her, she couldn't help but cry once more.

 **Three Days Before – Pittsburgh**

"Oh, it was just a, uh… an accident," Mike explained.

The customer stared at him quizzically. "Accident?"

Mike grunted, sliding his bad hand behind the counter so it was hidden from view. "They got caught in a bear trap… and had to be amputated."

"Christ, man. That sounds rough." The guy offered him a sympathetic grin. "Y'know, I almost got a couple fingers blown off by a BB gun once, if it makes you feel any better."

 _No, it doesn't, but thanks for your consideration._ Mike chuckled grimly. "Nah, really, it doesn't bother me anymore. I'm used to it."

After bidding the man a good day, Mike removed his damaged hand from his pocket, raising it so that the scars were centimeters away from his nose.

Mike wasn't used to it. He never would be— that was why he tried to act like the two stumps weren't there. It was easier to pretend that having eight fingers was normal than acknowledging that it wasn't, in fact, normal at all.

The rustic shop he worked in was deserted. Bottles of locally-brewed beer sat untouched on dusty shelves. Mike felt an urge to pop one open, but then he reminded himself it wasn't even lunchtime yet.

His phone began to buzz, and Mike eagerly picked it up when he saw his favorite name in the world on the screen.

"M'lady. What's up?"

"Michael," Jess squealed. She sounded like a hamster on crack. "Guess what?"

"Hm," he rumbled, tapping random words into the keyboard of the desk's computer. "You got—"

She finished his sentence. "— the job. I got the frickin' job! I knew they loved me, I knew the second I finished that interview that the job was mine. I knew it, I knew it, I knew it! I can quit that horrible job at the burger place—"

"Jess. Babe. This is awesome news!" Mike said, beaming widely despite her not being able to see his face. "When do you start?"

"The day after we get back from California."

 **Present Day – San Francisco**

"Look, over there!" Chris rested his hand on Ashley's shoulder, standing on his toes and nodding toward one end of the busy terminal. "I see Mike and Jess."

"I see Em and Matt over here," Ashley replied. She was looking in the complete opposite direction. "Oh, Sam's with them too! And Beth."

Chris chuckled. "There's Josh, that dumb ol' idiot. Hannah, too." He twisted around, smirking down at his fiancée. "I believe everyone is accounted for?"

"Check!" Ashley chirped.

It was a full week before the wedding, and everyone involved in it had come early to help prepare. All other invitees— which now included all of Chris's weird aunts, uncles, and cousins, unfortunately— would be flying or driving in closer to the date.

The scene played out in slow motion as everyone caught sight of each other. Nobody ran into each other's arms, though there was some very fast-paced walking. It took ages, but soon all ten were together again at last.

The first person Ashley hugged was Sam. "It's so great to see you, Ash. It's gonna be a fun week," Sam said as she wrapped her arms around the redhead.

"Definitely," Ashley agreed, smiling into Sam's hair. Her friend had reverted back to the usual messy ponytail, with no trace of her sleek 'do from a few weeks ago.

Sam leaned back, her hands gripping Ashley's forearms. An inquisitive frown replaced her smile. "Hon, what's wrong?"

Ashley let out a sigh. How could she always tell when something was off? "Nothing really, just… I don't exactly have a wedding dress yet."

Some color drained from Sam's face. "Oh jeez. I hope that's not something the maid of honor is supposed to do?"

"God, no. I've just been really… uh, really indecisive," Ashley mumbled sheepishly. "My mind keeps going back to that dress I tried on at that shop in Seattle. I'm sure it's gone by now, but…"

"Don't worry. We'll figure this out. I mean, we haven't even picked out our bridesmaid dresses yet. It'll be last minute, but any place will gladly take our money, right?" Sam tensed. "Wait, right?"

Ashley grimaced. "Feels like everything about this wedding is last-minute."

Just then, Hannah and Beth walked up, and Ashley quickly exchanged hugs with both of them. Emily followed, giving her a small wave only to be engulfed in a hug as well. Jess was last, enveloping Ashley in a gentle hug. Thick golden locks fell in her face, sweet and pineapple scented.

"It's been ages," Jess remarked, glancing around at the women. "Tonight, we're going out for drinks. Agreed?"

Nobody replied; she was only met with wide-eyed gazes.

"Oh, c'mon." She laughed. "I'll drink a Shirley Temple or something. But ya'll are gonna have to enjoy extra hard stuff in my place, alright?"

Jess was wearing a loose-fitting blouse that did little to hide her rounder belly. It was still strange for Ashley to see this. Out of everyone in the group, Jess was honestly the last person Ashley ever imagined having children. The blonde always seemed like the kind of girl who'd live her life going from one party to the next, unable to stick to one place (or one guy) and settle down. Yet here she was, years later, defying the odds. _I guess we've all matured since college,_ Ashley thought with a grin.

"You look great, Jess," she said. "I mean, all of you do—"

"Yeah, Ash is right. You're a glowing queen," Sam agreed, briefly embracing her.

Jess snorted as she pulled back. "You guys." She was almost doubled over laughing, but then the next second a deadly serious expression was plastered on her face. "Thank you so much. I just spent the first ten minutes after landing coughing up my guts into an airport toilet, but hey… if you think I'm pulling it off, then to each their own." Holding up a pack of mints, she shook it cheerfully. "Tic-tac, anyone?"

Ashley gratefully accepted a mint. As she popped it into her mouth, Jess went on, "Besides, this week isn't about me. It's about the beautiful bride-to-be!" She fluffed Ashley's hair with a smile brighter than a camera flash.

Sam leaned over to whisper in Ashley's ear. "Ash, you still want to throw that shower for Jess?"

A mischievous grin appeared on Ashley's face. "Hell yes."

A short while later, right when the group began piling into Chris's SUV and Ashley's car, Chris snatched up the maid of honor before she could climb into a backseat.

"Chris!" Sam gasped in surprise. "No need to be so rough, damn…"

Chris pulled her to a safe enough distance from Ashley before squatting down somewhat so he was eye-level with Sam. "Sam, what was the name of the dress shop you and Ash and the others went to in Seattle?"

"Wha—"

A few yards away, Ashley was standing next to the open driver's side door of her car. "Chris, Sam! We gotta go now if we want to make the reservation—"

Chris straightened, plastering on a loving expression for his fiancée. "Just a minute, honey!" The next instant, his smile dissolved and he was again staring down sternly at Sam. "What was the place called, Sam, please?"

"Uhm…" Sam raked through her mind, desperately. The shop's name was sitting at the edge of her brain, just out of reach… "Oh! I got it! It was, er, Annie's Bridal Boutique." An immense look of relief washed over Chris's face, and she quirked an eyebrow. "Chris… why do you need to know the shop's name?"

"Ash told me a while back about this dress she tried on, how it was white but up close it kind of had this pink sheen, and how it was super comfy and how…" He trailed off, sensing Sam's exasperation. "Well, uh, I bought it. And I wasn't sure if it was the right one, and y'know that Ash would act like she loved it even if it wasn't the right one. But I found the right one! I'm, like, ninety-nine percent sure—"

Sam lifted her hand, cutting off his rambling. "It sounds like you have the right one. But how the hell have you been hiding a _wedding dress_ from her?"

"Follow me, and I'll show you," Chris said. The pair walked over to his SUV, and he popped open the back of it. A nondescript box was tucked into the corner of the cargo area, hiding under an old blanket. Chris jabbed a finger at it enthusiastically, running his other hand through a mess of fair hair.

"Jesus, Chris. When are you going to show her?" Sam asked, gawking at it.

Ashley jogged up to them, scowling impatiently. "Guys, we can't wait around forever."

Beads of sweat dripped from Chris's temples. His eyes locked with Sam's, then he bit his lip. "Well, I guess it's now or never, right?" With a flourish, he lifted the lid off the long box, revealing the same dress Ashley tried on a few months ago.

"Oh my god!" Ashley pounced on it, auburn curls flying. "Chris, how did you—"

"Y- you told me about a dress you really liked, so I… I searched all the websites of all the dress shops in Seattle, b- but only this one looked like the dress you described," Chris stammered.

Sam stepped back to give them space as the couple embraced and kissed. "You are a miracle worker," Ashley said, breathless.

Chris shrugged. "I guess love can do that to you."

Sam decided to leave them alone to share their corny moment. She moved around the SUV with a lopsided grin and returned to Ashley's car, settling into the backseat and looking up.

Josh's face was millimeters away from hers, and his knee brushed hers not-so-accidentally.

"Hey," he said.

Sweat sprang onto her palms, and her fingers scrambled to buckle her seatbelt. "Haha," she giggled like a nervous pre-teen at a boy band concert. "How, uh… how've you been?"

* * *

 **Finally got this silly old thing updated. I'm happy now that the group is back together again, and the story should begin moving pretty rapidly from here. I'm planning to end this hopefully at 35-40 chapters, plus an epilogue. So the end is near, guys, and while I'll be sad to see this story ending, chances are I will begin writing another (probably much shorter) one in due time :)**

 **Thank you for the reviews and love! I really enjoy reading feedback, so don't be afraid to speak your mind about my cheesy writing.**


	33. Rant

**Hannah**

"How, uh… how've you been?"

Hannah watched Sam's lips form the question. There was an aura of uncertainty about her, which her stutter only confirmed.

"Oh, y'know, I've been fantastic," Josh answered. "There _is_ one thing, though. I'd love to talk about what happened two weeks—"

"Don't you start," Sam seethed. "That is a _private_ matter, Joshua, and if you say a single peep about it I will strangle you right here in this car."

Beth groaned from the passenger seat up front. "It's so great the entire group's together again." She twisted around, shooting her brother a shit-eating grin. "Isn't it?"

Josh chose to flip her off and lean back against the headrest, his eyes glued to the low ceiling of Ashley's car. "Fuck this," he mumbled.

Hannah bit her lip as Beth dug her grave a little bit deeper. "Hey now, c'mon, you two! We can't have the maid of honor and the best man hating each other, can we? Ya'll just need to, ahem… _get along._ "

"What's that about getting along?" Ashley made her entrance, climbing into the driver's seat and following Chris's SUV out of the airport traffic.

"Oh, nothing," Hannah said. Luckily, those two words dammed up Beth's flood of risky comments, and Ashley was none the wiser. Just in case, however, Hannah delved further into a different subject. "So, uh, Ash… nice car. What is this, a Toyota?"

Ashley nodded as they merged onto the highway behind Chris and the others. "Yeah, it's a good little car. I didn't have much use for it in Portland, but now I'm glad I have it." Hannah saw her eyes dart up to the rearview mirror, which gave a perfect view of the pouting Josh in the middle seat. "Josh, are you okay? You look like you're ready to murder somebody." _Ah, shit._

"Yeah." A melodramatic chuckle escaped Josh's stiff grin. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm not pissed off at all. Or, maybe I am, but only one person in this car would know _why_."

Hannah leaned away from him, and glanced out the window with a sigh. With Sam and Josh in a feud, and Beth pushing their buttons, this could turn out to be a _very_ long car ride.

"Alright, so first order of business: dresses," Ashley announced the next day as the six women entered a shop. Hannah's head swiveled around, taking in all the different styles of dresses: short, long, preppy, gowns, silky, cottony, in blues and reds and whites and purples.

A grinning woman with her platinum hair in a tight bun glanced up from the front desk. "Ashley Brown?"

"Yep!" Ashley said.

The woman introduced herself as Natalie and led the group to the back of the shop. "We just got a brand new set of bridesmaid dresses that will blow. You. Away," Natalie boasted. She stepped up to a curtain and whisked it to the side, revealing five very poofy pink gowns.

"Oh…" Sam murmured.

Beth couldn't suppress a disgusted grimace, and Hannah gave her a rough nudge in the hopes her sister would erase the offended expression.

"Um. Well." Ashley coughed awkwardly, sending the others an uncertain gander. "I guess they'll try 'em on, r- right ladies?"

Before Hannah really knew what was happening, Natalie had dropped one of the dresses into her hands and shoved the brunette into a changing room.

Hannah sighed and began to yank the stupid thing on, ignoring her reflection in the mirror until the moment it was on. When she finally looked, well… boy, was it ugly. She looked like a five-year-old ballerina wearing a sequin-studded tutu.

She startled when a quiet knock vibrated through the wall between Hannah's stall and the next one. "What?" she muttered irritably while averting her eyes from the mirror.

"Up here!" Hannah tilted her head back, and found Jess leaning precariously over the edge of the paper-thin wall between the rooms. She was standing on the bench in her stall, and Hannah mimicked her so they were face-to-face.

"What is it?"

"It's not— it's not really working," Jess whispered, poorly-disguised embarrassment coloring her cheeks pink.

Hannah frowned, confused. "What's not working?"

Jess chewed on her lip. "The dress! It's not…" She hung her head miserably, her fingers gripping the edge of the wall tightly. "It doesn't fit."

"So tell them!" Hannah said.

"How the hell— I've never not had a dress fit before!" Jess hissed through gritted teeth.

Hannah's patience level was dropping, and fast. "Well, good for you," she replied hotly. "So maybe you don't have the body of a model anymore, too-bad-so-sad! Just ask for a bigger size."

A short, abrupt sob crawled up Jessica's throat. "Ugh, whatever. It's not even _worth_ it, this dress is—"

"Listen to me!" Hannah leaned closer so that the pair was nose-to-nose. She grabbed one of Jessica's bare shoulders and scowled at her. "You have a very good reason for the dress not fitting! It's nothing to be ashamed of. Now I want you to get out there and tell them that you need the dress in a different size, and I want you to be proud of it!"

Jess appeared to be at a loss for words for a few moments. Hannah was surprised herself; who knew how convincing she could sound with a lowered voice and urgent, annoyed tone?

And then Jess began giggling like an insane person. Damn, those mood swings were definitely real. "Han… I was gonna say… this dress is such an eyesore… it's not worth it to ask for the next size up." She slumped over the wall, still chuckling. "I mean, am I right or am I right?"

"No, no, you're right," Hannah said, finally smiling too.

"We _can_ hear you, you know."

Both Hannah and Jess stiffened, and the latter almost toppled onto the floor. Hannah's privacy curtain was ripped back, exposing the puffy pink dress for all to see.

Jess made a noise that was a cross between a shriek and a laugh, and she ducked out of Hannah's sight to step off the bench.

There stood Beth, Sam, and Emily all wearing the same disaster. Ashley was sitting on a nearby chair, stifling what was surely a mocking snicker. Natalie was the only other person smiling as she stood contemplating their appearance.

"Well?" she asked, circling around a highly uncomfortable-looking Beth. "What do you all think?"

Sam lifted her eyebrows, locking gazes with Hannah's deer-in-the-headlights expression. "It's… it's, uh, different," she said politely.

Natalie turned around to face Ashley. "And what does the bride-to-be think?"

Ashley leaned forward, propping her elbows on her knees and still hiding most of her face. "Yeah, haha, well… Nat— can I call you Nat? — maybe you could show us something else? Please?"

"Yes, please, pronto!" Beth exclaimed, already backing into her changing room.

As polite as they'd tried to be, it was clear that something they'd said had pissed Natalie off. She showed them another few sets of dresses, but left them swinging on their hangers when she heard a nonexistent telephone ring at the front desk.

Now alone, the group immediately became more relaxed. With five more sets to go through, each bridesmaid grabbed a different one to try on.

Emily emerged first, in a shimmery blue gown that was very skin-tight and stretched taut across her hips. "Ehh…" Emily mused, placing her hands on her hips and spinning around slightly in the mirror. "I dunno guys, it doesn't exactly scream 'wedding' to me."

"No, it's really just a whisper of 'wedding," Jess noted teasingly. "Though I am getting a strong 'senior prom, after spilling punch down the front of your dress and then tripping and falling down a staircase' vibe, aren't you?"

The glance Emily sent in her direction was livid. "Eff off, Riley," she warned. Jessica's response was to stick out her lower lip and angle her head to the side.

"Oh, come on, Em. Surely you've got better comebacks brewing than _that_. Show me what you've got," Jess taunted.

Emily's fingers kept clenching and unclenching her hands into fearsome-looking fists. "Gladly," she said, mirroring Jessica's toxic smirk. "That rag you've thrown on makes you look like a homeless person who just went dumpster diving and got food splatters _all… over..._ "— Emily circled a hand in front of her chest— "your chest, then barfed on top of that."

Hannah had to admit that she wasn't exactly wrong. The dress Jess had grabbed had odd splashes of color and a sprinkle of tiny black beads that looked like sesame seeds.

"I guess neither of those dresses are it, then," Ashley remarked wryly.

Jess and Emily didn't seem to hear her, instead glaring at each other. Sam stepped in between the pair, waving them away from each other. "Alright, you two, come on. This isn't high school anymore, act your age."

Emily scoffed, turning on her heel and marching over to sit on a chair next to Ashley. Jess did the same, flipping her long hair over her shoulder and plopping down on the redhead's other side. Ashley glanced back and forth between the two, suddenly looking like she wished there was a thick novel to bury her nose in. Hannah could relate.

With two of the five dresses out, Beth took center stage next, standing inelegantly in front of the floor length mirror. Most of the mannequins in the store had more poise and flair than her, Hannah noted. Beth could always rock black jeans and a t-shirt, but whenever she put on a dress she became quite wooden and moody.

"Well?" The younger twin spun around, and the stylishly uneven hem of her summery yellow dress fluttered upward from the movement. "Yay or nay?"

"Jesus, Beth. You might as well just steal one of our president's pantsuits. Would that make you more comfortable?" Hannah said, rolling her eyes. She spoke more out of annoyance than amusement, so her short riff generated more laughs from the group than she would've liked.

Beth stuck out her tongue at her sister before returning her attention to the others.

"I'm not sure all of us could pull off yellow," Jess pointed out. She was sitting back on the plush armchair, one leg crossed over the other, the ugly dress draped loosely over her body as she studied Beth.

Emily leaned around Ashley to gaze sternly at the blonde, like she was Jessica's mother. "I didn't think it was possible for that dress to get any more wrinkled, but it damn well might if you sit it in like that," Emily snapped.

"Christ, just leave me alone," Jess replied, refusing to even glance in Emily's direction.

"I don't think that's the one, Beth," Sam cut in sharply, twisting around to give Emily and Jess another warning stare. "What do you think, Ash?"

"Yeah, I agree." Ashley nodded. "You were an A plus model, though, Beth. One hundred percent."

Beth let out a long breath that she'd clearly been holding the entire time she had the dress on. "Thanks, girl," she said, breezing past Hannah to her changing room.

Sam glided up to the front, showing off her pale lavender gown. It was a pretty dress with a keyhole neckline and a thin line of subtle sequins that traced the outer hems. It contrasted sharply with Sam's loose bun and minimal makeup, and Hannah found herself wishing not for the first time that her friend would better acknowledge the attractive features she'd been blessed with.

"I'm not liking the longer sleeves," Hannah said, stepping forward to lift up Sam's arm. "I mean, it's June in California. Even indoors, it's gonna be sweltering."

"Yeah," Ashley said. "I mean, it's a pretty color, but I don't think it would go too well with my dress."

The others murmured in agreement, and Sam moved away to make room for Hannah.

"My, my," Beth hummed, wiggling her eyebrows at her sister. _Oh, great,_ Hannah complained to herself. _I gave her a hard time, so now she's gonna do the same back._ "Hannah, did you and I switch bodies? I don't remember you ever looking that good in green."

Hannah rolled her eyes for probably the millionth time that morning. "Ugh, would you shush?"

Her gaze fell downward, skimming over her outfit. The dress she'd picked up was a pale, spring green that reminded Hannah of the fake grass she'd used to get in her Easter basket. Springy, cheerful, and pastel. It was sleeveless, like Ashley's wedding dress, and devoid of any flashy sequins or glitter. Out of the six dresses Natalie had set aside for them, this one was by far the best.

"I vote that one," Jess said.

"Agreed," Sam said with a grin.

Emily nodded as well, crossing her arms delicately over her midsection.

"Hey, it's not a pantsuit, buuuut… I guess it'll do." Beth was already back in her regular clothes, and looking far more comfortable.

"Ashley?" Hannah asked. "Do you approve?"

Ash's head bobbed up and down eagerly, her red curls barely contained by her beanie. "Heck yeah. That's perfect."

 **Matt**

Matt heard the door to his and Emily's hotel room open then shut softly, and a few seconds later his girlfriend appeared. She began furiously sliding a collection of bangles off her wrist and slamming them onto the table.

"Hey! Did you guys pick out your dresses?" Matt chirped, muting the baseball game he had on the TV.

 _Clang_. "Yep," Emily said shortly, popping the "p". _Clang_. "But you-know-who was…" She paused, and another _clang_ sounded through the room as she pulled the last silver bracelet off her arm. "… difficult, and that's me being polite."

"You should just talk to her, y'know," Matt said, his eyes flashing darkly from the silent TV to Emily as she sat down at the desk chair. A New York Yankees player scored a home run, and as he slid into the home plate and dust clouded around the camera, Matt bit back a victory cheer. _Hell yeah! Yankees might have a chance at making the playoffs this year._

"Why the hell would I want to talk to that bitch?" Emily chuckled bitterly. "If Slut of the Year 2014 wants to talk, then she can get up off her ass and come to me first."

Matt fingered the TV remote, taking out his agitation by repeatedly jabbing a broken button. "Em, this is getting ridiculous," he grumbled. "It's been almost seven years since she got with Mike, and you're still acting like it happened yesterday. If being around them still bothers you so much, then you and Jess need to talk it the fuck out, because I'm tired of hearing you bitch about it day after day."

Emily was silent for several minutes after his brief rant. Matt was pretty sure he'd done it this time; she would call it quits with him— that would be the eighth time they broke up since the mountain— and he would have to seek refuge at the nearest Motel 6.

To his shock, Emily stood up from the chair, kicking it back under the table and sliding her three hundred bangles back on. Matt watched her, perplexed. "W- where are you going?" _To purchase the tools she'll use to murder me in cold blood?_

"To talk with Jessica," Emily said while sliding one of the room keycards in her pocket. It was the first time in ages Matt had heard her use Jessica's actual name instead of "bitch" or "slut of the year."

"Oh." Matt coughed. "Wow. Thank you."

"I don't need your thanks," Emily answered. "It's _her_ thanks I'll be needing, for me being the bigger person."

Matt shook his head in disbelief. "You're impossible."

"Impossible, high maintenance, stone-cold. I've heard it all, honey, and I love it," Emily said, grinning mischievously at him. "No, really… in all honesty, you're right. I will admit it. And Ashley wants to throw a surprise baby shower for her, so I might as well try to make amends or not show up at all." Lowering her voice, she added in a whisper, " _And_ you can bet your cute ass I'll be around to see her _finally_ get fat!"

With that, Emily was gone again, and Matt was free to revive the volume on the TV. The high-def screen definitely made him feel like he was really at a Yankees game, but what would really make it even _more_ authentic?

"I need a beer," Matt mused to himself. He leaned over to grab the room service menu on the nightstand and began dialing on the phone.

 **Emily**

Emily prowled down the hotel's carpeted hallway, feeling like a tigress on the hunt for one particular pesky and pretty little bunny rabbit.

She lifted her phone and swiped on the screen so that she was on the front-facing camera. "Ugh," she groaned at her appearance. She fluffed her shoulder-length hair, wiped away a smudge of eyeliner that had migrated onto her cheek, and nearly smacked head-on into Jess.

"Oh!" Jess jumped backward, her silvery eyes widening as she saw just who'd she run into. "Hello, Em."

Emily shied away at her strangely warm and friendly greeting. "Hey…"

"I was, uh, actually kinda looking for you," Jess went on, a meek grin forming on her face. "We need to talk."

Emily tried to plaster a small smile on her face, but it wouldn't stick, so she settled for a cautious frown in place of it. "I couldn't agree more."

* * *

 **I apologize for the short chapter! I'm really in a rush because I'm going on a weekend trip tomorrow and won't be able to get anything else up before then, so this will have to do for now. Thanks for much for reading! Love you guys.**


	34. Reconciliation

**I marked the beginning and end of each flashback just to make this easier to read. I added that in for only this chapter because I thought it might be confusing otherwise.  
**

* * *

Ten minutes later, Emily and Jess were in the hotel's café just off the lobby. The group was staying in a Holiday Inn that was a short drive from Chris and Ashley's place, so the hotel was clean and modern, but nothing special.

Emily ordered a glass of chardonnay, figuring she'd definitely need it, and Jess had gone with a plain old glass of water. An invisible wall of silence built up between the two, as neither seemed quite sure how to start.

"So," Jess said. Since the dress shop, she'd plaited her hair into an expert fishtail braid, the tail of which brushed the table. "Hmm. Where to begin?"

Emily watched her squeeze the wedge of lemon over the glass. Tart juice spurted, and a pale yellow swirl appeared in the water. Jess stirred the flavor in with her straw, and ice cubes clinked against the glass.

"It's been brought to my attention that… you and I have been acting immature," Emily mumbled, pressing the edge of her wine glass to her lips.

"Oh, really?" Jessica's tone held the slightest hint of sarcasm. "Who told you that?"

Emily decided to take her rhetorical question seriously, and she frowned as she set down her drink and launched into deep thought. "Let's see… Sam, Ashley, Beth, Hannah implied it, Josh, my mother, two of my sisters, my coworker Sylvia… oh, and Matt."

A look of shame crossed over Jessica's pretty face. "You can add Mike to that list."

"Ah, speak of the devil."

"Em—"

"Ah-ah-ah, hold up. You do realize that the reason for all of this is because I walked in on you and my boyfriend making out?" Emily leaned back in her chair, drumming her manicured nails on the surface of the table.

Jess tensed. Strands of hair fell in her face. "We didn't do anything else that night," she whispered. Her words were almost lost in the bustle of the restaurant around them, but Emily caught them and reeled them in.

"What?"

"After you were g- gone, I left, too. We felt so terrible about what happened for several weeks afterward," Jess admitted. She played with the bumpy peel of the used lemon slice, while Emily's jaw hung open.

The raven-haired women shook her head in disbelief. "That doesn't make any sense. How come you two were together three months later on the mountain?"

Jessica's eyes were huge and had as silvery a tinge as Emily had ever seen. "I can tell you how it happened," she said carefully. "As long as you promise—"

"Fuck promises. I want details," Emily hissed, leaning closer to her across the table.

"Emily!" Jess gasped, slapping her hand over her mouth. "There's a little kid sitting behind you, don't swear."

Emily wrinkled her nose, sending her companion a judgmental scowl. "You're such a mom."

For a moment, Jess looked hollow. _"You're such a mom"_ had been a common insult she and Emily tossed back and forth when they were best friends. It meant that one of them was being a worrisome busybody. That was when the realization dawned on Emily— soon, Jess _would_ be a mother. Emily was surprised to see how terrified she seemed to be by the prospect.

"That's because…" Jess trailed off, but there was no need for her to continue. Emily understood.

"Anyway. What was it you were saying about…?"

"Right. Um," Jess sat up in her chair, covering her uncomfortable expression with a sweet grin as their waiter reappeared to take their orders. Once he was gone, Jess removed the smile. "Okay, so, this is how Mike and I— this is… this is how we… _happened_."

 **Begin flashback**

Jess hadn't seen, let alone spoken to, Mike in the week since they were caught. Emily had cut off all ties with Jess, and as much as it hurt her to know she'd likely lost her best friend for good, at least being blocked on all social media made it the tiniest bit easier to let go.

Jess was walking briskly down the hall to her dorm, one eye on her surroundings and the other eye on her phone. The shitty Wi-Fi had been able to load up Instagram for once, and Jess typed Emily's username into the search bar, anxiety fizzing in her fingertips.

 _You are blocked from viewing em_davis_xo's photos and videos. Contact us if you think this might be a mistake._

 _"Dammit,"_ Jess sighed, the curse whistling through her gritted teeth. Twitter, Snapchat and even Facebook were the same way.

 _It IS a mistake,_ she thought desperately, digging her key out of her bag. _This wasn't supposed to happen. I wasn't supposed to fall for that idiot Munroe!_

Shoving her phone into the back pocket of her jeans, Jess entered the dwarf-sized living space and dropped her stuff on the floor with a groan.

Unfortunately, that snagged the attention of her roommate, Maggie. The dark-haired girl pulled out one of her earbuds and lifted her eyebrows curiously at Jess. _"Rough day?"_

Jess chuckled grimly. _"More like a rough week."_

That launched Maggie into a very long spiel about just how rough _her_ week had been, a topic Jess cared little about. Nevertheless, she nodded and smiled and ignored the buzz of her phone in her pocket. It was an act that never fooled Susan Riley, but newer acquaintances repeatedly praised Jessica's "attentive listening." It was a skill Jess had considered placing on her _résumé_ more than once.

 _"— and so I told my professor that I would be fine with the 98.9%, but he kept insisting—"_ Maggie was cut off by a knock on the door.

Both girls froze, Jess in particular, staring at the door. Again, a set of knuckles rapped against the old door, bone against wood, shaking it in its frame.

 _"You can get it, you're closer,"_ Maggie told her roommate while returning the one earbud to its rightful place.

 _Oh, shit! That's gotta be Emily, here to put my head on a platter. I should hide, maybe, o- or climb out the window—_

 _"Jess, are you there? It's Mike."_

Just like the rest of her body, Jessica's blood froze over and became ice in her veins. She stood up from her bed, threw open the door, stepped into the hallway, and slammed the door behind her.

 _"What the hell are you doing here?"_ she demanded, eyeing him up and down. Mike looked handsome as ever, bundled up in a black fleece jacket and his cheeks rosy from the crisp autumn air outside.

Mike shifted his weight onto one foot as he leaned against the peeling wallpaper. _"Didn't you get my texts? I wanted to meet at the Starbucks down the street from campus, but you didn't respond."_

 _"Starbucks?"_ Her tone was flat, dismissive. _"Since when were you a Starbucks fan?"_

He shrugged. _"I dunno. I guess I thought every teenage white girl on the planet enjoys a cuppa joe from that creepy green mermaid lady. Am I wrong?"_

Jess crossed her arms over her chest, sliding down slowly against the closed door. _"You're such an ass,"_ she said.

 _"I know. I'm a cute ass, aren't I?"_

She didn't return his grin. The firm frown perched on her lips overpowered any trace of a smile. _"Mike, you need to leave."_

 _"But—"_

 _"We can't just walk around what we did! We broke Emily's heart. Can you even begin to imagine how she must feel right now? I feel enough like shit about this whole thing, and she probably feels ten times worse."_ Jess waved him away, her hand already back on the doorknob. _"We shouldn't be talking."_

Mike's eyes were warm and fuzzy and oh-so-brown. She didn't like seeing the shiny film of hurt over those brown eyes. _"Jess, please. I really like you,"_ he tried.

 _"Go!"_ she yelled. _"It doesn't matter if we like each other, okay? You're off-limits to me, and always have been ever since you started dating Emily. That's the way it should be."_

 _"Alright! Fine."_ Defeated, he turned and trudged back down the corridor, like a scolded puppy with its tail between its legs.

In the days afterward, he wouldn't stop texting her. Every morning, Jess would wake to find a "good morning" text waiting for her, and each night before she fell asleep there was a "good night" message sitting patiently on her lock screen. She refused to reply, and the messages accumulated into the hundreds. She didn't see Mike in person, but he was still with her everywhere she went, always in her pocket and purse, always _there_. And there was something that stopped her from blocking his number.

In mid-November, Jess landed a date with a cute guy she'd met in her literature class. He picked her up at seven o'clock sharp (plus a few minutes because Jess was hardly ever on time) and they shared a pleasant conversation on the way to the restaurant.

The restaurant was an Italian place— Olive Garden, to be specific— since Jess felt it was about time for another breadstick overdose. Ben and Jerry's ice cream to most other people was the equivalent of Olive Garden breadsticks to Jess.

She'd casually posted on Twitter about her impending breadstick OD, with no mention of the place she was going to, and still somehow Mike found her.

The date was a bust; the guy turned out to be too geeky and weird for her taste. _Anyone who collects used dryer sheets is not my kind of man,_ she thought to herself. So they paid for their meal, and Jess shoved a few extra breadsticks in her purse on the way out. They were walking along the sidewalk to his car, winter coats and scarves wrapped tightly to avoid the November chill, and that was when Jess recognized the car parked next to her date's.

 _"Oh, you have GOT to be kidding me,"_ Jess grumbled. Ignoring her date's puzzled queries, she circled around the tiny roller skate of a car, checking the license plate and bumper stickers. Sure enough, it was the same crappy rust bucket Mike had driven before the Mazda.

Like the civilized and self-assured young woman she was, Jess stormed back into the restaurant, raking her gaze over the assortment of tables and chairs. By then, it was well past eight, and the place was cleared of most families, so it was easy for her to slide past the front podium and squeeze between lovey-dovey couples.

Mike was in a table in the far back corner, alone as ever. Once Jess was at his side, however, she was able to observe how good a vantage point he had of where she and her date had been sitting.

When he saw her, he lifted the dessert menu and covered his face with it, pretending to scan over the selection curiously.

 _"Michael,"_ Jess growled.

Only Mike's creased forehead and deep brown eyes could be seen as he lowered the menu. He eyed her like a fearful child at the lion habitat in the zoo. _"Oh, Jessica. Fancy seeing you here."_

 _"You're acting like a stalker!"_ Jess seethed, lowering her voice when she received a few dirty looks from other patrons. _"You followed me here just to—"_

He didn't even bother attempting an excuse. _"I only did it because I lo— I like you a lot, Jess, and I want to be with you."_ She opened her mouth, but he stood up from the table before she could object. Now that he was standing, he had several inches on her, and she was stunned silent. _"I know what we did was wrong, and I know how much we hurt Emily. It sucks that a relationship between us would hurt someone else so much, but I can't get you out of my head."_

 _"Oh, god…"_ She placed a hand on her forehead, suddenly breaking into a sweat. A butterfly of nausea fluttered in her stomach. Too many of those fucking breadsticks.

 _"When I kissed you, y- you were like no one I'd ever kissed before. You were different, in a really good way. I want to risk everything to be with you, Jess. And you're so fucking hot, all these years I've known you and I couldn't bring myself to say a word."_ Mike inhaled a deep breath, while Jess swayed on her feet. She clutched the back of an empty chair behind her for support. _"I know what you're thinking; Mike Munroe couldn't ask a girl out? But it's true, I couldn't bring myself to do it. Every time it was just you and I alone together, I was sweating like a pig and going crazy inside over you. But now I've finally got the courage to ask you: Jessica Riley, will you please be my girlfriend?"_

Jess blinked at him, dumbfounded. His speech had arrived to her ears in bits and pieces, and splotches of black were dotting her vision. If she didn't hurl soon, she was going to pass out. _"Mike, I—"_ Nope. It was coming now, whether she wanted it to or not. She spun around, guilt stabbing at her feet with every step she took out of the restaurant.

Shockingly, her date— Jess couldn't be bothered to remember his name— was still waiting for her outside. _"What just happened?"_ he asked, brows furrowed. _"Hey, you look kinda green, are you about to—"_

Too late. Her entire dinner exited her system at warp speed, spraying all over the car in front of her. During this quite unflattering event, there was a shriek from her date, and Jess was reminded of the many late nights she spent throwing up into the toilet bowl after hours of hard partying. The only person ever willing to hold back her hair during this was Emily. Jess would always do the same for her.

 _"Thanks so much, Em. You didn't have to do this, ya know,"_ Jess would say in between vomit sessions.

 _"Oh, come on. What else are best friends for besides holding back each other's hair to throw up?"_ Emily would reply with a smile, handfuls of blonde waves gathered up in her fist.

Jess would smirk and wipe her mouth. _"You are soooo my bitch."_

And still Emily would smile stupidly, rolling her eyes at the drunken words. _"You got that right…"_

Jess was quickly forced out of the fond memory and back into the Olive Garden parking lot and the puke-covered car in front of her. With a shudder of horror, she realized it was Mike's rusty little Dodge.

Amazingly, her date was _still_ standing by his car, having ducked narrowly out of the line of fire. He took one look at the mess, then at her, then back at the mess. He pulled a folded dryer sheet out of his pocket and reached over the hood of his car to hand it to her. _"Try it! It's a napkin and air freshener in one."_

Jess shook her head slowly, staring at it as if it were another breadstick. She couldn't even fathom laying her eyes on the three she'd shoved in her purse. _"I do not want a fucking dryer sheet."_

 _"What? They're a cost-efficient alternative to candles. See?"_ He produced a lighter from his other pocket, then demonstrated by igniting the dryer sheet. Flames swiftly ate up the flimsy material, though Jess did have to admit there was a sudden burst of clean cotton in the air.

 _"Just go,"_ she said.

 _"What?"_ he repeated.

 _"Go ahead, drive home. You're, um… sweet. But there won't be a second date, sorry."_ Jess did her best to smile at him while ignoring the disgusting aftertaste in her mouth. She was still kneeled over, knees slightly bent, strands of hair stuck to the lipstick on her mouth.

The guy slapped his thigh angrily and climbed into his car. _"Damn! I was betting my friends fifty bucks I could take you home tonight. Thanks for making me broke."_ Within seconds, his truck had peeled out of the parking lot into the cold night, and Jess was left crouched in front of Mike's dripping car.

She settled on the curb, rubbing the exposed part of her legs between her short semi-formal dress and knee-high boots. Her toes felt like miniature ice cubes through her too-thin socks.

To entertain herself, Jess imagined a possible accompanying tweet to her earlier one.

 _Update: Just threw up ten servings of breadsticks in the parking lot. #feelingreat_

 _NEVER. HAVING. BREADSTICKS. AGAIN. I will regret eating those 20 breadsticks for the rest of my life…_

 _Life tip: next time you feel the need to puke 20 breadsticks, don't do it on your friend's car. #FML_

 _"Well, then. I know you hate me, but you didn't have to eff up my car just to prove it."_

Mike's voice frightened her, and she leaped up from the curb with a gasp. When it sunk in who the voice belonged to, she spun around and sighed softly. _"I don't hate you, Mike."_

 _"Really? Because it seems to me that_ "— he moved closer to the car, inspecting it carefully— _"you have prepared quite the display for me. Y'know, I really worked hard on that speech for you, Jess— hell, I sat down at a desk and wrote it out— but there are easier ways for you to express your disgust towards me,"_ Mike said. He balanced on the edge of the curb, tilting backwards then forwards, and scanned over her bedraggled appearance. _"What happened to Dryer Sheet Dude?"_

 _"I told him to go ahead,"_ she sighed. _"I wasn't just gonna leave after ruining your car…"_

 _"Oh. Well, don't worry about it. I gotta admit, you're still hot even after hurling all over my car."_

She crossed her arms. _"And you're still kind of cute even though you're so annoying."_

 _"Why, thank you, m'lady. How about a piece of gum?"_ She nodded gratefully, her parched throat suddenly closing up, and he handed her a piece.

Jess tore away the wrapper and popped the stick in her mouth, relaxing as refreshing spearmint bit at the insides of her cheeks. _"That is so much better… and now I can do this."_ She stood up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his.

He leaned back after several seconds, his eyebrows lifted cautiously. _"So does this mean you're my girlfriend?"_

 _"Yes, just as long as we never speak of this night again,"_ she answered.

 _"Sounds good to me!"_

 **End flashback**

"Wow," Emily snorted. "So you spewed all over that clapped-out old Dodge of his? Is that what it took for him to finally get rid of it?"

"No, he still had it another few years. It took way too many wet wipes to get the mess off the windshield, though." Jess giggled, shoving a forkful of chicken into her mouth "Okay, but really, can we stop talking about this now? It's not exactly a conversation for dinnertime."

Emily shuddered. "Agreed."

There were a few minutes of silence during which the two dug into their meals. Emily had ordered a tasteless garden salad, which was always what she ordered in front of other girls in order to look skinny and healthier than them. It was actually a tip Jess had passed on to her, though her old friend didn't seem to care much about that anymore.

Jess glanced up from her plate, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of her lips. "Girl, you need some dressing on that salad. C'mon!" She reached an arm forward, twirling her fork in the untouched serving of dressing next to Emily's plate, and stabbed a few leaves of romaine lettuce.

Emily gazed at her, wide-eyed. "Damn," she muttered as Jess swallowed the bite of rabbit food. "Excuse _me_."

"What? I'm eating for two, I need all the nutrition I can get," Jess said with an indifferent shrug. "Besides, you _know_ life is better with dressing! Remember when we put ranch on—"

"— on top of popcorn. Yeah, I remember." Emily chuckled, clutching the pendant of her necklace bashfully. "That might've been our best idea ever."

Jess moaned loudly enough for nearby patrons to glance in their direction. "Ohhhh my god. Ranch popcorn plus Mean Girls on Netflix is still the best combination ever."

Emily beamed, finally drizzling the vinaigrette over her salad. "It wouldn't have been as messy if we used the dry powder instead of actual dressing."

"It also wouldn't have been as fun," Jess argued playfully.

The giddiness of the moment was dampened by the waiter's brief return to drop off the check. Emily hesitated, suddenly feeling like swirling her wine in the glass instead of meeting Jessica's eyes.

"Hey, um. Listen, Jess, I…" Emily drew a deep breath. "I'm really sorry about those texts I sent you, all those years ago. It was uncalled for."

"No, I deserved those texts. I broke one of the biggest friendship rules! I still feel bad about it," Jess said. "I- I guess I just had the biggest crush on Mike for so long, but I had no idea—"

"He was crushing on you, too," Emily finished for her. "Like, crushing _hard_. You're super attractive, sooo it makes sense. Like, there were all those times you and I would go to the mall or wherever, and you'd be turning heads constantly…" Emily felt the heat in her cheeks, and the dollops of red forming on her face. _Why am I saying "like" so much? I feel like I'm in high school again._

"I'm _pretty_ sure they were staring at you more than me, Em," Jess replied humbly. "But it doesn't matter now. All that does matter is that I'm so sorry. I'll be honest— the texts you sent did hurt, but… I tried to apologize to you as soon as you sent them."

Emily's face crinkled in confusion. "No, I don't think you did."

"I did," Jess insisted. "It just never sent."

 **Begin flashback**

 _"Jess?"_ Mike rumbled, turning over in the bed. His bare skin brushed hers, and a shiver rippled down her spine. She held her phone just a few inches away from her nose, eyes wider than saucers.

She was struck speechless. No words could make the journey up her closed-up throat.

 _Emily: Congrats, ur officially the worst human on the planet_

 _"Jess?"_ Mike repeated, just as another text arrived.

 _Emily: Fuck you._

It had been two weeks or so since Jess and Mike declared their relationship official, and Emily was finally venting her emotions in as hurtful a way as possible. Jess almost wished she'd just yell these things to her face instead of virtually.

 _Emily: Just couldn't keep ur hands off my man, could u? what a slut._

 _"Goddamn,"_ Mike said. His breath tickled her ear, and she lifted a shaking hand to cover it. _"Jess, just ignore—"_

 _Emily: I'm not really surprised, tbh. you've had ur legs spread wide for years. I should've known_

Jess clutched the sheet to her bare chest. The final message popped up while Mike was brushing her frayed braid out of her face.

 _Emily: Dont ever talk to me again, bitch_

A hand closed on the cellphone, ripping it out of Jessica's hand and placing it on the nightstand. When Jess stretched towards it, Mike slid it across the surface so that it was dangerously close to the far edge. _"Damn you and your long arms,"_ Jess grumbled.

 _"Hey, forget about Em. It's all about you,"_ Mike said, pointing at her, _"and me,"_ he added, moving his finger to his own bare chest. _"Last night was great, right?"_

 _"Yeah,"_ Jess said. It had been great, like all of the other times. In just two-and-a-half weeks, the two of them had fucked in her bed, in his bed, on the floor, in the shower, against the wall, and on the sofa. It was an R-rated kind of magical, minus the texts from Emily.

 _"You know it!"_ Mike grunted as he sat up, arching his back like a tomcat when he stretched. _"Ugh, I've got class at nine and it is…"_ He grabbed his phone off the table next to his side of the bed, and right away swore loudly. _"Shit! 8:47. Shit, shit, shit."_

Jess watched her boyfriend turn into an overactive blur, leaping off the bed and yanking on the same jeans she'd unbuttoned the previous night. He snatched up his book bag and flung it over one shoulder, running one hand through his hair and checking his teeth at the same time in the mirror. He then spun back to face Jess, who was still nestled in the sheets and eyeing him with amusement. _"Am I forgetting anything?"_ he demanded.

She nodded. _"You, uh, might want to put on a shirt before you go, stud muffin."_

Mike cursed again. Once he had covered himself with a suitable t-shirt, he paused one last time at the door. _"Hey,"_ he murmured, and they locked gazes. _"Don't let those texts bother you, okay? She— it—"_

 _"I don't wanna talk about it right now, Mike,"_ Jess interrupted. _"But don't worry, I won't."_

After another quick make out session for the morning, he was gone and Jess was free to retrieve her phone. She unlocked it, sliding on one of Mike's shirts while doing so.

There was nothing else from Emily, but the cursor was there at the bottom of the screen, blinking invitingly and coaxing Jess into typing up a mournful reply.

 _Jess: I'm so sorry, Em._

Without a second thought, she hit send and immediately locked her phone again. She curled back up into Mike's bed, grateful that Pete was still out and that she didn't have class for another hour.

Just as she drifted back off, a new notification appeared on the phone's screen.

 _Error: Message to Emily not delivered._

 **End flashback**

"Holy shit," Emily whispered. "I didn't know you tried to text me back. Why didn't you ever try sending it again?"

"I dunno," Jess mumbled sheepishly. Her eyes sparkled like a sunlit creek. "When I woke up later and saw that it didn't send, I was just too tired to care. I became angry, a- and the next day was when the Washingtons invited the group back up to the mountain. I think that at the time it was easier to be nasty and immature than to apologize to you."

Emily swallowed the final mouthful of her salad, and began to dig her wallet out of her purse. "So that explains that idiotic fight we had in the lodge." She frowned, remembering. " _I_ started that, though, didn't I?"

"That's in the past. All that matters _now_ ," Jess said firmly, squeezing Emily's hand, "is forgiveness."

"Forgiveness," Emily repeated. Not for the first time that evening, a deep breath rushed through her lungs and pushed at her ribcage. "Forgiveness, and reconciliation." She met Jessica's serious stare. "I'm sorry, Messy Jessie."

A spark ignited somewhere in the blonde's eyes, the glimmer of a distant memory. "I'm sorry too, Smelly Emmy."

A short time later, the bill was paid and the two were able to exit the café and return to their rooms. They strolled at a leisurely pace to the elevator, glancing at the darkening world outside through the large windows. Inky blots were smeared over the sky, painting black over the pale blue. Handfuls of stars lay scattered all over and also clustered near the almost-full moon. It was a highly decent view, considering they were in the heart of the city.

"Beautiful night," Emily commented.

Jessica's response to that was a suffocating hug. She threw her arms around the taller woman, holding her close and suddenly sobbing out of nowhere.

Emily cringed at the unexpected touch, but before long she gave in to the embrace, and enclosed Jess in her arms as well. "Jess," she said, trying not to laugh at the spontaneity of the entire situation. "I don't think this is worth crying over!"

Emily's shoulder was soaked, but she realized that she didn't care all that much. Jess leaned back slightly, oblivious to the several stares they received from passerby. "My hormones are in overdrive right now," she sniffed. "Last week, I cried for an hour because I accidentally put the milk in the cupboard instead of the fridge."

"Well, that definitely cements my decision to never have children," Emily said with a teasing smirk. "Overactive hormones, throwing up, and crying over misplaced milk."

"And don't forget that zero percent of maternity tops are cute," Jess complained. Her shoulders lifted up then down like they were attached to puppet strings. "It kinda sucks, but… in the end, I think it'll be worth it."

Emily took in her friend's glowing smile and proud statue. _Maybe she's not scared after all._ "You really think so?"

"Yeah, I'm excited. I mean— you know me and Mike— of course this wasn't exactly, um, _planned_ , but… I've heard Ash and Sam whispering about the shower they're planning to throw me, and I just think i- it's really sweet of you guys to do that for me..." As Jess rambled, fresh tears began pooling in her eyes, and she blinked fast to ward them off.

"How did you find out about it?" Emily hissed, half-dragging her into the empty elevator. "It was supposed to be a surprise!"

Jess snorted. "I find out _everything_ , Em. That 'surprise' party you threw for my seventeen birthday? I knew about it a month in advance."

Emily staggered backward. "But you looked so surprised!"

"What can I say? I'm a talented actress." Jess dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. "I'll just act surprised for this one, too."

"I guess you'll have no choice," Emily agreed. The elevator stopped at their floor, and bade the women farewell with a cheerful _ding-ding_ as they stepped out of it. Emily started to make her way down the hallway, but Jess remained frozen at the closed elevator doors. Em halted, tilting her head. "You coming?"

The deafening hum of the nearby ice and vending machines nearly swallowed Jessica's mumble. "I heard Ash and Sam talking about the shower in the dress shop earlier, but… they didn't know what color decorations to use."

"Yeah?" Emily prompted. "Why, do you know—"

Jess tugged a folded-up envelope from the bottom of her bag, and pressed it into Emily's hands. "Here. I want you to have this."

Emily turned it over, still bewildered. Sharp crease lines, some more worn than others, striped the envelope at various angles. There was no name or label on it. "What is this?"

"In there is the gender of the baby," Jess told her quietly. "Mike and I got it weeks ago, but neither of us have looked in it yet. I'm— I'm too nervous to find out this way, you know, by just reading one word on a paper. Do with it what you want— hell, you can burn it if you want to." For the second time that night, Jess and Emily maintained affectionately serious eye contact. "I trust my best friend will know the right thing to do with it."

"Jess…" Her name rushed out of Emily's parted lips, along with a surprised breath. "A- are you sure?"

Jessica didn't directly answer, and just kept looking evenly from Emily's face to the envelope. "I'm so sorry I hurt you, Em," she whispered.

 **Begin flashback**

 _"Matt!"_ Emily wailed, pounding her fists on any surface she could reach: the door, the walls, Matt's chest. _"Open the fucking door—"_

 _"The door is open,"_ Matt reassured her. _"Wide open. Jesus, Em, what the hell happened?"_ He rested an arm over her hunched figure, gently guiding her into his dorm.

On the night Emily found Mike and Jess together, she drove hours through New York state to the university Matt attended. After those two traitors, he was the next closest to her, and Emily sure as hell needed to be with someone right then.

Instead of venting to him, however, she stood on her toes and kissed him hard on the lips. Matt made a startled noise that soon faded as the kiss intensified. Eventually, however, he tore his face away from hers, confusion clouding his gaze. In the dim light of the room, she could see smudges of her watery mascara that had rubbed onto his cheeks.

 _"What was that about? Y- you're with Mike. And it's, like, two in the morning."_ He looked so adorable when he was puzzled. Emily could picture the gears turning in his head as his body transitioned from sleep mode to full wakefulness.

 _"Mike cheated on me,"_ Emily informed him. She was still leaning on him for support, but he stood stiff as a board, and she could feel the hard muscles under his t-shirt.

 _"What?"_

Emily leaned harder against him, and at last he began to soften a bit. It was like trying to thaw a solid block of ice in your hands. _"With Jessica."_

Disbelief and anger were laced between his words. _"Jess? Christ! I can't believe this. Mike was always kind of a womanizer, but I thought he was a good enough guy."_ His body become softer than a pillow as he rubbed her back. _"Emily, I'm so sorry this happened, but… why did you kiss me?"_

 _"Honestly?"_ Emily sighed. She melted as far into him as she could go, getting lost in the repetitive motion of his hand stroking her back. _"I don't know. I just need someone right now, a- and—"_

 _"Okay. I'm here for you,"_ Matt cut her off. _"Whatever you need tonight, Em, I'm here."_

She inhaled the faint, yet ever present, musky scent of his cologne. _"Thank you, Matt."_

 **End flashback**

Emily blinked warmly at her friend, and her fingers closed tighter around the envelope. "It's okay," she told Jess. And, for the first time in six years, it really was okay.

* * *

 **90% sure I'll return later and add in an indication for when each flashback begins and ends. (Edit: done.) As a reminder, _italicized_ dialogue means it is a flashback. I hope you liked this one, and weren't too grossed out by the Olive Garden breadstick disaster of 2014! It was kinda weird, but IDK, I had fun writing it. Thank you so much for reading!**


	35. Oxygen

**Chris**

"Five more days," Ashley hummed.

Chris smiled. "Five more days," he said.

They were strolling down the sidewalk, hand in hand, Storm's leash wrapped around his wrist. A clear and bright blue sky stretched out in front of them, dotted with wisps of clouds that looked like white cotton candy. The houses of their neighborhood surrounded them with pristine porches, brick facades, and vibrant green yards.

Storm's muzzle was tilted down, her pinkish nose twitching furiously and diving between clumps of onion grass.

The two soon found themselves lost in a conversation that would be meaningless to most people, but to them it was of the utmost importance.

"… I really don't think it would matter if someone else besides the Seeker catches the golden snitch," Chris stated, shaking his head. "Just as long as somebody catches it, then their team wins fair and square."

"Quidditch is a serious game, Christopher, and the entire _point_ of the Seeker is to pursue the snitch! If it's fine for anyone else on the team to catch it, then the Seeker has no purpose!" Ashley argued.

Chris rolled his eyes and kicked a pebble across the sidewalk. "So are you saying that Harry Potter had no reason—"

He was startled when Ashley shushed him, and he felt her fingers close around his arm and drag him behind a tall shrub. Storm yipped in annoyance as she was pulled away from the pole she'd been sniffing.

"Ash, what the hell?" Chris grumbled, rubbing his arm.

"Look!" Ashley whispered. She gestured towards two people heading in their direction. "What are they doing all the way down here?"

Chris squinted and nudged his glasses up the bridge of his nose. As the people drew closer, he finally recognized them as Josh and Sam. Chris opened his mouth to answer her, but then he recalled how he was the only one who knew the latest specifics of Josh and Sam's complicated relationship.

So, instead, he just sighed and said, "Maybe they're coming for a visit. Our house isn't that far from the hotel."

Ashley knelt down behind the bush, playing with a spiny green leaf between her index finger and thumb. "Chris, they passed our house a few blocks ago." She glanced up, searching his face for any suspicious creases or lines. "What are they doing here _together_?"

"Just talking," he insisted. "Being friends." He did his best to smooth out his face; any little wrinkle or twitch at the corner of his mouth, and she would know that he was lying.

"Doesn't look like they're having a very friendly chat…"

Ashley was right— damn, she was always too observant to let any interesting detail, no matter how trivial, slip by.

Then again, probably even the most clueless person could pick up the fiery buzz of tension between their two friends, who were getting closer and closer by the second.

"Sam!" Josh's voice came within earshot. "Would you please wait up?"

She marched a few yards ahead of him, fists heavy as boulders at her sides and weighing down her arms. "Josh, I was in the middle of a jog, and right now I just want to be alone. Is that too much to ask?"

Chris noticed that Sam was, indeed, clothed in a neon yellow tank top and black shorts. Her hair was back in a tight ponytail reinforced with a pink headband. The white cord of her ancient earbuds dangled loosely across her chest, connected to her phone, which was tucked safely into an armband.

Chris had worn workout gear like this once in his life, during a brief stint at the gym during college. It was soon after the mountain, and his doctor had suggested he try to exercise the ankle he'd sprained badly.

 _"You need to put strength back into that leg, Christopher, after favoring it for a few months. Put some weight on it, get it used to moving again."_

Chris had worked his ass off buying tons of workout clothes, but in the end he only ever wore the full outfit once. After that, he'd settled for wearing his favorite t-shirt for workouts instead of the "moisture wicking" one he'd dropped twenty bucks on at Dick's. After just a couple gym sessions, the t-shirt was ruined by ocean-sized sweat stains.

And then Chris gave up. Working out just wasn't his thing. _"I love you the way you are,"_ Ashley told him once. _"You don't need huge biceps and a six-pack to appease me."_ So Chris learned to like his slight pudge and skinny arms. If Ashley didn't mind them, then neither would he.

Now Josh had finally caught up with Sam, and he made a valiant effort to ignore her breasts in that tight sports bra. Hell, he really tried. If he had the courage, Chris would step out of his hiding place and give his bro a high five.

"Last I checked, my eyes were up _here_ , Joshua," Sam hissed, and that whipped him into shape quickly.

"I'm sorry," he panted. "But you need to listen to me. It's been two weeks since we had that fight! Why can't we just forgive and forget—"

"Forgive, maybe, but _never_ forget," she said briskly. "You know that."

Josh's shoulders slumped. "Forgive and move past it," he corrected himself. "Sammy, why can't we just give us a chance—"

She swooped in again, talons poised and beak sharp. "Josh, I invited someone to accompany me to the wedding."

As soon as these words were off her tongue, however, Chris saw her crumple somewhat. He couldn't see her face from where he was standing, though he imagined it still hadn't softened, judging by the betrayed flame in Josh's eyes.

"Wait… y- you're bringing a date?"

"Yes, Josh, I am. And you know why?" She didn't wait for his reply. "You and I? It will _never_ work out. Hasn't in the past, isn't now, and it never will. You might as well get used to it."

"S- Sam—"

"Get used to it, Washington! It'll be better in the long run if at least one of us gets used to it…"

Then Sam broke into a run, her agile legs a blur as she rounded the corner and disappeared. Josh looked positively deflated, his face pale and eyes hollow. He stared after where she'd gone, then turned on his heel and jogged back where they'd came from.

Once the coast was clear, Ashley, Chris, and Storm stepped out of their cover. The redhead's mouth was opening and closing like a fish's. At last, she dug up some intelligent-sounding words.

"What… was that?" She whirled around, auburn curls flying over her shoulder. "Are Josh and Sam _together_?"

"Apparently not," Chris said, sliding his hands into his pockets. His fingertips grazed his phone, and suddenly they itched to type out a comforting text to Josh.

"Who even knew they were actually a thing, though? I mean, we all knew Josh had a crush on Sam, but… I guess all along she liked him back."

Chris was torn between staying loyal to his best friend or being honest with his other best friend. Josh would murder him if he told Ashley about his and Sam's time(s) in Seattle, but if he never found out, then—

"Oh, well, I guess it's not really our business anyway," Ashley sighed.

Storm tugged at the leash, and Chris lurched forward. "Yeah," he said. "Best not to pry. The last thing we need is any more drama."

She frowned, thoughtfully blinking at the site of Josh and Sam's argument. "Knowing our circle of friends, avoiding drama might be impossible."

 **Sam**

Fucking Josh. Sam hated him. How did he always know just the right way to look at her, tilting his head and opening those wide green eyes, the corner of his plump lips curled into a half-grin? He knew exactly how to push her buttons and set her off. And _Jesus_ , it was hot.

As Sam fled the scene, she picked up the pace, whipping past rows of houses until they blended into a solid brown wall. With each stride, her feet slammed against the pavement and needle points of pain pricked through the rubber soles of her sneakers.

Music blasted in her ears and drowned out the noise of any passing cars or children playing outside. Currently she was working her way through a Bach playlist, and she shut her eyes for a brief moment as the melody enveloped her. Violins and cellos, the rhythmic whine of the strings against the bow— it captivated her, every second of it, and she was almost too engrossed in the symphony to realize what new song was beginning to flood her ears. _Almost_.

 _Suite No. 1- Prelude._ Her entire body stiffened, and she began to lose her speed. At this point she was a good fifteen blocks away from Josh, and when she spun around, there was no one behind her.

She collapsed onto the soft, inviting grass of an empty lot between houses. The sun was broiling hot and it stung her sweat-slicked face. Again she closed her eyes, panting heavily and trying to focus on pushing air in and out of her lungs. _Oxygen, Sam. You need oxygen._

It was the same song from that night. She'd been lying in the Washingtons' enormous bathtub, her entire body save for her head hidden underneath warm water. Velvety smooth bubbles lapped at her skin and at the sides of the tub. Candles were everywhere, and they'd taken nearly ten minutes to be lit with one half-empty pack of matches.

The tune poured into her ear canals and stroked her brain, and she shook her head ever-so-slightly, entranced by the sound.

And then, some of the glowing orange flames were extinguished. The door hinges squeaked, and Sam shifted, removing the earbuds.

 _"Hello? Guys? What are you doing out there?"_

The room was silent. Most of the candles still burned, flames leaping and dancing quietly as if they could hear the music still leaking out of her phone.

 _"… being creepy?"_ The still water's surface was broken as she lifted out a hand. _"Oh… kay…"_

All these years later, and still Sam remembered the feeling of raw terror that had ripped through her in that moment.

 _"Do you think she has any idea what lies ahead?"_ Josh's voice, distorted, still clear as ever in her mind. _"Do you think these were the last happy moments of this creature's life?"_

Sam rocked back and forth on the grass, feet burning and muscles like stretched out putty. She groaned, burying her face against her knees. Then, after a moment of hesitation, she scrabbled for her phone and got rid of Suite No. 1 – Prelude.

That music used to be like oxygen for her. You cut that off, and she struggled uselessly like a fish out of water.

But now she knew the true meaning of oxygen. It was a necessity, what kept her functioning. Music was not oxygen. It wasn't music that got her to run to that switch and narrowly escape an outstretched set of bloody claws. It was air, air tinged with dust and soot and fear, that helped her stand up as the lodge burned, that urged her to climb into the rescue helicopter, that forced her to sit in a hard plastic chair in the Blackwood police station.

As Sam sat rocking back and forth in the grass, her lungs burned. _Air. Oxygen. Fucking breathe, Samantha!_

It took several minutes for her to be able to stand again. And when she did, she walked very slowly back to the hotel, taking in every crack and smudge of dirt on the cement under her sneakers.

She arrived at the hotel with trembling legs and wobbly knees. She scoured the lobby for any familiar faces, and was relieved when she didn't spot any. She went straight up to her room and fell onto the bed.

It had been nearly two hours since her argument with Josh when Sam dared to step out of her room again. She'd messed with the "do not disturb" sign on the door handle, and stood reading every word on the emergency map bolted to the back of the door. She stood on her tiptoes, squinting through the peep hole, then took a breath and stepped out into the hallway.

She'd changed into a less sweaty outfit, and her hair was the only remaining evidence of her vigorous workout. It hung in limp chunks fused together with half-dried sweat, and as she brushed a stinky piece away, she cursed herself for not just using one of the hotel's indoor treadmills. Or, hell, even the pool.

She crept down the hall, feet soundless against the plush carpet. In her hands was the room's empty ice bucket, then just a few feet away was the vending room.

Just a few more steps, and…

"Sam! We finally found you!"

She circled around and dropped the empty bucket, letting out a cry of surprise. All of the other ladies except for Jess were heading down the hallway, a triumphant look on their faces.

"Jesus! What?" Sam gasped. She bent to retrieve the stupid chunk of plastic, and when she was upright again, they were standing in front of her.

Ashley— who must've arrived at the hotel some time ago— was at the front next to Emily. The dark-haired woman had a small envelope clutched in her hand. "Guess what?" Ashley squealed.

Sam stared blankly at the envelope. "What?"

Emily waved the paper around excitedly. "We have the best plan ever for Jessica's shower!"

Sam was taken aback by her sudden enthusiasm towards a party for her apparent enemy, but she suppressed her surprise for the moment. "Yeah?"

"An epic gender reveal party," Emily stated. "I can picture it in my head already: pink or blue balloons and confetti raining down, and Mike will be there too, and they'll never see it coming—"

"Whoa, whoa, hold on there, partner," Sam interrupted, stepping closer and resting her hands on her hips. "Maybe we should, um, tone it down just a bit… and do a gender reveal cake or something."

Ashley bounced on her heels. "Oh my gosh, yes! And then Jess and Mike cut into it and the inside is blue or pink—"

"Wait, wait, wait," Beth cut in. Sam was equally shocked to see Emily's level of excitement mirrored on the brunette's features. "A cake isn't original enough! We need something more like cupcakes. Jess grabs one, Mike grabs one, then they both bite into them and the filling is whatever color." She glanced around from one person to the other. "How about that?"

Emily's eyes gleamed. "Ladies," she announced, turning around and strutting over to the elevators, "We're going to need some cupcakes. Lots and lots of cupcakes."

"Or… just two cupcakes," Hannah pointed out.

"Or fifty!" Ashley chirped.

Sam rolled her eyes, gave a good-natured chuckle, and followed the others back to the lobby, her mission for ice forgotten.

With the help of Google maps and Ashley's phone, the girls were able to track down a bakery pretty quickly. It was a tiny place buried in the streets of San Francisco, but they had to hike up several hills to get there.

"Ugh, I feel like I'm climbing a goddamn mountain," Emily whined.

" _Don't_ even go there," warned Beth as she shot a warning glance over her shoulder at her friend.

Sam and Beth, athletic as always, were at the front of the pack; Emily was in the middle, and Ashley and Hannah brought up the rear.

"Ash, tell me again why you and Chris wanted to live here?" Hannah asked, blowing a few loose strands of hair out of her face.

Ashley shrugged. "Beats me. It was all Chris, honestly. I guess since he spent his last two years of college here…" She paused to pant, then went on. "… he just fell in love with the city. I like it here more than he liked it in Portland, so it just worked for us."

They'd reached the top of another endless hill, and all five of them watched as a cable car rumbled by on its track. It was filled to its capacity with flocks of tourists, some of which were hanging off the edge with cameras and phones snapping endless streams of photos.

Fleeting looks were exchanged, and then Beth piped up, "Maybe we should've just ridden the stupid cable car…?"

"Next time," Ashley breathed, peeling off her beanie and using it to fan her face. "Next time."

Sam was the first to stumble upon the bakery, and she cheerfully motioned the others to follow her inside. It was times like these where Sam secretly— and selfishly— enjoyed seeing the others bitch about the steep hills, while she herself barely broke a sweat. It proved that all the running on a treadmill or on a bustling city street had been worth it.

As they entered the shop, their noses were immediately attacked by an overwhelming scent of sweetness. It was as if they'd ran into a solid wall of frosting, and Sam almost felt like she'd buried her face in a bag of powdered sugar and breathed in deeply. Her nostrils tickled, and she rubbed her nose with a sniff.

Emily didn't hesitate in prancing right up to the counter and slapping the envelope down.

A middle-aged man wearing a batter-smeared apron lifted his eyebrows, staring from her to the envelope. "Yes?"

"Do you, sir, happen to make gender reveal cakes here?" Sam couldn't see Emily's face, but she was ninety percent sure that the dark-haired woman had just batted her eyelashes at him.

The guy chuckled. "We don't just _make_ 'em, miss, we _bake_ 'em. From the _heart_ ," he said robotically, and Sam suspected that was a corny line he'd been ordered to recite.

"Have you ever done gender reveal cupcakes?" Emily asked.

The smug look was wiped clean from the man's face. His jaw fell open slightly, then closed, then opened again. He smiled uncertainly, and finally he grunted, "Exactly how _many_ cupcakes are we talking here?"

Emily twisted around for a moment, wiggling her eyebrows playfully at her entourage. "How about… fifty?"

"Miss, there's a dozen per batch—"

"Sixty, then," Emily snapped. She slid the envelope closer to his gloved fingers. "Depending on what's in there, put blue or pink filling inside each and every one. Deal?"

Ashley bounced forward, excitement emanating from every pore in her body. "What are Jess and Mike's favorite flav—"

Emily was lightyears ahead of her. "Make half vanilla with strawberry frosting, and the other half double chocolate." Clearly she felt the others' stunned gazes on her, for she swiftly added, "What? I know my best friend and her man like the backs of my hands."

Everyone pitched in to pay for the order, which would be picked up tomorrow, and then they began the trek downhill— which was, admittedly, significantly easier.

"Em, why did we get sixty cupcakes?" Hannah demanded. "That's way more than we need."

Emily's shoulders lifted up then down carelessly. "The more, the merrier. And… I wanted to make up for the sucky gift I got."

"Shit!" Sam slapped her forehead. "I totally forgot to buy a present…"

Hannah smirked at her. "Just give them that kitten of yours."

Sam shook her head. "My neighbor spends so much time with Tux, he's basically hers now."

"Don't worry, I'm sure you'll find something," Ashley comforted her. "In the meantime, what _I_ want to know is why _somebody_ was so arrogant with that bakery guy! He'll definitely spit in the cupcake batter."

Emily breezed down the hill so fast, she was nearly skipping. Sam couldn't recall the last time she'd seen Emily Davis act so… whimsical.

"Arrogance is the best way to get your point across," Emily said. "And it's the most fun. So if that oaf spits in our cupcakes, he'll be sure to receive a piece of my mind, which won't be as sweet as a piece of his fattening cakes."

Sam began giggling, and it spread to Ashley, then Beth, then Hannah, and, at last, Em. They were doubled over in the middle of a downhill jaunt while the rest of the city existed peacefully all around them. For once everything was right in the world, if just for a few sparkling seconds.

* * *

 **Oh no, second corny ending in a row! How dare I?**

 **But yes, I finally got this finished. I apologize for the long wait, but life has been crazy and I was busy writing a Beth/Sam-focused one shot this past week - which was in present tense by the way, and it was tough getting accustomed to past tense again. But I pulled through, so I hope you all liked this! See you next update...**


	36. Soul Sisters

**Jess**

Jessica was barely awake when the FaceTime request popped up on her phone.

She'd been up maybe twenty minutes, having been roused by a painless, yet still distinct, jab in the ribs from Mike's elbow. He was probably having another one of his restless dreams— it was the first one in a while.

She had considered turning on the TV, but Mike's whimpers and mumbles convinced her to do otherwise. So, instead, she sat up, propping her pillow against the headboard and leaning back. When Mike rolled over onto his stomach— the bastard was lucky he could still do that if he pleased— she began rubbing small circles over his back.

Her phone, screen up on the nightstand, lit up and displayed a familiar face.

But, as familiar as the face was, she had no clue why he would want to contact her.

A groan escaped Mike's parted lips. With a huff, he turned his face away from the buzzing sound and nestled deeper into the pillow.

Jess slithered off the bed like a lazy snake and headed for the door, grabbing her phone and a light jacket as she went. _Might as well go so I don't bother Mikey,_ she figured while sliding the pale lavender jacket over her t-shirt and pajama shorts and zipping it up.

She only hit the green accept button when she could hide in the stairwell down the hall.

"Brendan? Why the hell are you calling me?" she demanded. Her words echoed and bounced off the cement walls and tall ceiling. She shivered and moved to glance out a window.

"Well then, good morning to you too, sleepyhead," her brother drawled. "You look like you just rolled out of bed."

Truthfully, so did he. He had a messy nest of sandy brown hair and bleary-looking pale eyes that matched her own. "Sue me. It's seven in the morning here. The fact I got up at all for you is a miracle within itself."

Her retort was met with another sheepish grin, but then seconds later the smile was gone. Brendan blinked gently at her, brow furrowing. "Hey, I- I know we don't talk much, but—"

"Because I don't have anything to say to you," she said.

He winced, but went on rambling. "Jessie, you know you can tell me anything, right? Me n' Zach are your protectors. We'd never let anyone hurt you."

Jess chuckled grimly. "Well, it seems you've already failed at your job, then."

A sharp blue spark gleamed in his gaze. "I swear, if Mike did anything—"

"Just cut the shit, Bren. Mom put you up to this, right?" Jess sniffed, scowling out the window. It was at least eighty degrees outside, but the cold cement windowsill she leaned on made the stairwell feel like thirty.

She spared her brother a brief glance. The screen was a bit pixelated— crappy Wi-Fi— but the sincerity on his face was still unmistakable.

"When were you planning on telling me you're pregnant?"

Jess knew this was coming. This was probably the only reason he'd called in the first place. Nevertheless, his question caught her by surprise. She leaned harder against the window, almost wishing the glass would shatter so she could jump out and escape.

"I guess… I thought Dad would tell you for me," she mumbled.

Brendan's sigh was just as tired and defeated as his face looked. The sound made the hair on the back of her neck prickle, as if he was actually standing in front of her.

"Yeah, well… Dad did tell me. And Zach. We all met for lunch last Thursday."

"Of course you did."

"Jessie…" He reached up with one hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. That was a weird habit everyone in the family seemed to have except for her. "He said you had a 'screaming match' with Mom. What happened?"

Jess gazed at him hesitantly. She tucked a blonde ringlet behind one ear, holding the device at an arm's length, in the fear that he could— impossibly— smell her morning breath. "She was saying shit"— at her brother's sharp look, she quickly corrected herself— " _stuff_ about Mike, how he and I only stayed together because of t- that night, y'know. And, for the millionth time, she compared me to my amazing brothers." She tilted her head at him, one corner of her mouth kinking upward. It was the beginnings of a smirk she so desperately didn't want him to see. "What was it Aunt Teresa called me again? The 'family disappointment?'"

"Hey—"

"And I'm sure you must be disappointed in me, too, right?" She held his gaze, wanting to puncture the cautiously kind cloak he'd covered himself with. Now was not the time for any bullshit.

" _Don't_ say that," Brendan snapped. "I'm thrilled for you, okay? For both you and Mike. Is that _forbidden_?" He spat the word off his tongue like it was poison. "I just wanted to know what was going on between you and our parents. Are you even gonna let them see your kid?"

"Of course I am," she muttered. "I'm not that cruel."

His head shook back and forth slowly. Floppy patches of hair also moved left or right with each movement. "Listen, Jessie. I _know_ it's hard. Life sucked a lot for you growing up. You've made that clear. And I know Zach and I weren't there as much as we should've been. It wasn't easy, considering the age difference, but… there really is no excuse."

Her fingers found the frayed hem of her t-shirt. It was actually an old shirt of Mike's that she had stolen long ago, something light gray with many loose strings that had escaped their stitching. It was still big and roomy enough to hide her belly, which was fine with her. Not much of any clothing she owned could disguise her pregnancy anymore. It scared her the way people in public looked at her differently. Sometimes the glances would include a slight dip of the head and a congratulatory grin. Others, usually older people, weren't as understanding. An elderly woman who passed her in an aisle of the grocery store last week had offered her a clearly forced smile. She'd halted next to Jess, who had been pondering over two different peanut butter brands. She couldn't for the life of her remember whether Mike preferred creamy or chunky— it was something she used to have on file, but lately her brain was always in disarray.

 _"Oh, you poor dear,"_ the woman had croaked. Jess turned, blinking bashfully as if she'd just been caught pondering two different types of LSD, not peanut butter.

A wrinkled, veiny hand rested on top of Jessica's. _"You're such a pretty girl… it's really a shame your husband left you. God bless."_

Before Jess could even think to ask what the hell she meant, the woman had gone around the corner with one last whine of squeaky shopping cart wheels.

It was during the drive home that it had hit her. The realization smacked into her hard, like running head-on into a solid brick wall.

She and Mike weren't married, or even engaged. She didn't have a ring on her finger, and she was visibly expecting.

But since when did she care so much about what other people thought of her?

 _Since the mountain,_ she reminded herself. _Since you got the scars._

People stared at her on the streets now. They always had, really. In high school, it was because she looked good— or that was what she hoped. After the mountain, when the scars were still fresh and red and puffy as ever, they were looks of sympathy.

The scars faded, hiding behind layers of makeup. But now the stares had returned.

She didn't like the way people always looked at her. Not anymore.

Brendan was still looking at her in that way too. "Jessie," he murmured.

"I'm sorry," she said, though the words were a weak whisper that barely made it past her lips. "Zoned out."

"I'm here for you. But you have to do one thing for me."

She nibbled on her lip. "Yeah?"

"Talk to Mom and Dad, please. They are worried. I know they're not always the most tactful of people, or the… most modern-minded, but… we can't have our family in shambles again," Brendan pleaded.

"I know, I know." Her bottom lip began to tremble, and she bit down harder to stop it. "I will, Bren. I promise."

A palpable look of relief washed over her brother's face. "Thank you. Now for the really important stuff… am I getting a niece or nephew?"

"You already have one of each. Why should it matter?"

"Oh, shut up. Do you know yet?"

Jess rolled her eyes. "I think I might be finding out today." Wings of excitement flapped against her ribcage at the thought of the "surprise" shower Emily told her was being held today.

"Ohhhh, right. Well, keep me posted then, baby sis," Brendan said. "And tell that idiot boyfriend of yours to stay out of trouble. Just because I haven't been to a gym in twelve years doesn't mean I don't know how to kick butt."

Jess lifted an eyebrow. "'Kick butt' as in sit down and have a very gentlemanly conversation in your dining room?"

"You got it on the nose," he laughed. Just then, there was a scratchy noise distorted by bad reception. It sounded like an irritated squeal from her younger nephew. Brendan glanced away for a second, then frowned. "Looks like I have to go. I'm on diaper duty, and this little dude is _not_ looking happy." Before ending the call, he leaned in close to the camera. "Let's pray you don't have a boy, they mean trouble. And there's already enough of that in this family."

When Jess returned to the room, Mike was awake and scrolling through his phone while the morning news droned quietly on the TV. He set down the device as she rejoined him on the bed.

"There you are. Who was that?" he asked.

She melted into his side with a giggle. "Michael, I know you'll never understand this, but… thank god for older brothers."

Mike nodded knowingly. "I guess it's a good thing we'll be providing siblings for our kid, then."

"… don't get ahead of yourself, buddy."

Later that day, Jess was alerted by a text from Emily.

 _Emily: get ur ass down to the lobby, im idling out front and this guy in a jeep is really giving me the stink eye_

 _Jess: aw honey, ik u could knee that guy in the balls if ya really wanted to. be there in a sec_

She never realized how much she'd missed their old text conversations. Now they'd fallen right back into their old routine, horrible grammar and all.

She made her way downstairs, past the front desk, and through the sliding doors. As the cool blast of air conditioning faded behind her, she walked straight into a wall of unbearable heat. It was almost like summers back on the east coast, minus the moisture.

Just as she said, Emily was sitting out front in Ashley's Camry, hand poised over the horn. When she saw the blonde, however, she threw on a brisk smile and leaned over the empty passenger seat to push open the door.

Jess breathed a grateful sigh as the refreshing AC in the car immediately wrapped her back in a cool blanket. "So," she chirped, glancing over at Emily expectantly. "Where we headed?"

"Well, Ash let me borrow her car to drive you all the way to… drumroll, please… _their house_ ," Emily answered as she shifted into drive and guided the car out of the pickup area.

"Fun," Jess laughed. She squinted out the window, trying to look past the unavoidable sun, but it was far too bright to see much of anything. All she could make out was the blindingly bright yellow paint of the car in front of them on the narrow road.

"Damn, girl," Emily said, shooting her casual side glances. "You're looking cute as hell today."

Jess beamed. "Aw, really? Thanks, Emmy." In all honesty, she didn't think her outfit was much better than Mike's ratty t-shirt. Her hair was down except for a couple of French braids woven among the loose waves. She had on a sleeveless flowy white blouse and the final pair of regular jeans that still fit her. Emily's light blue tunic top was way cuter, however. Jess made a quick mental note to ask her where she'd found that top later.

The drive was, of course, short, and they spent it chattering like two parakeets about meaningless matters.

Chris and Ashley's house looked ominously silent and abandoned when they pulled into the one-car driveway. Jess quirked an eyebrow at her friend, then wordlessly hopped out of the car.

"Yeah, uh…" Emily pulled a patterned green bandana out of her sleeve, as though it was part of a magic act. "I was instructed to cover your eyes with this and lead you up to front door, but seeing as you already know about it anyway…"

"No, put it on!" Jess squealed, leaping forward and closing her eyes. "It'll be more fun."

"Are you sure…?"

"Oh c'mon, it's not like Mike has never put one on me—" She stopped short, swallowing and grinning shyly. "I- I mean…"

Emily scoffed. "You are _such_ a slut," she chastised, brushing aside some of Jessica's hair in order to tie on the blindfold. In a few seconds, it was on, and Jess, completely unoffended, giggled.

"I know."

Jess felt her friend's fingers close on her arm as she was led up two steps and into the house. A million thoughts wandered through her mind in the next few moments, but gradually the anticipation surpassed all else.

"Em, where are we—?" she began to ask loudly, just for effect. It was surprisingly enjoyable to put up a fake act.

 _"SURPRISE!"_

Emily tore the blindfold off, and a flood of warm light dazzled Jessica's vision. She blinked away the darkness, a smile right away erupting on her face. She'd never been one to shy away from being the center of attention, and right away she let herself be swept into the heart of the group.

It was just the six of them— her, Em, Ashley, Sam, Hannah and Beth. Jess couldn't even begin to express how gleeful she was that there were no strangers. These girls didn't stare at her and judge her, or at least not in a rude way.

Ashley shrieked excitedly and motioned toward the back patio. Sam, the mother of the group, chuckled and greeted the guest of honor warmly. Hannah and Beth looked more like identical twins than ever before, with equally thrilled expressions on their faces. Emily was lingering in the back of the buzzing cluster, but she didn't escape Jessica's line of sight.

"Come on," Jess grinned as she stole Emily's hand from where it had been in her pocket. "Let's go, girlfriend."

The setup on the patio was modest, yet still the cutest display Jess had ever seen. Balloons, spirals and flakes of pastel confetti, shiny streamers and glittery bows. She couldn't help the tears that sneaked into her eyes.

"You guys…" she mumbled. Her lower lip was practically swollen from her biting it so much. "This is just so sweet…! I don't know what to say!"

"You've already said plenty," Ashley assured her. "Now have a seat!"

And so they sat in the ragged circle of outdoor chairs, the sun glowing down on them and nature, thankfully, sending a few cooler breezes their way. There was a large patch of shade on the patio, but Jess could still feel herself becoming sticky with sweat. She swept her hair over her shoulder as Ashley reached under her seat.

"Here, Jess. For you," the redhead told her as she handed over a gift with yellow wrapping paper.

Jess didn't waste time opening it, and when she did she wasn't disappointed. It was an assortment of onesies with quirky sayings, many of them Harry Potter-centric. Jess held up one that read "Snuggle this Muggle!" and rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

"Thank you so much, Ash. I love them!" Jess tittered. She had a limited knowledge of the Harry Potter series, but she had seen at least five of the movies and read the first two books (okay, well, half of the first one. Close enough.) She knew enough to know she was a definite Hufflepuff— as for Mike, maybe a Gryffindor?

Next up was Hannah and Beth, who both offered up their presents at the same time. Jess picked through tufts of red and white tissue paper to find a collection of teething toys from Hannah and a $75 Target gift card from Beth. Sam's gift was an adorable stuffed cloth lion buried behind shimmery green paper. Emily went last, and she paused before allowing Jess to take the bag from her hands.

"Jeez, Em, did you put some gold nuggets in there or something?" Beth teased, and with a huff Emily let go of the bag.

Inside was a cuddly baby blanket with thick stitches. It looked homemade. Jess blinked up at Emily, confused. "Did you make this?"

"Um." Emily played with a ring on her right hand. "Yes?"

"It's… it's…" Jess raked through her mind for just the right word. It was like trying to find one needle in a sea of haystacks. "It's perfect. Thank you."

It took a few thudding heartbeats to snag Emily's gaze. When she did, there was a glimmer of disbelief in those brown eyes.

"Really," Jess insisted. Emily stared at her, eyes wide as an owl's. Then, finally, her old friend smiled. It was a ghost of a smile, but it was something. It was another hurdle cleared.

The tender moment was slayed by a loud cheer from Chris. He and the other three guys suddenly appeared, passing one by one through the sliding glass door.

"Helloooo ladies! Are we crashing the party too soon?"

Emily jumped up from her chair, ignoring Jessica's puzzled features. "No, shockingly, you're right on time." She stepped inside the house, then right away returned to the patio with a tray of cupcakes. Damn, that was a lot of cupcakes. Emily grabbed Mike by the shoulders and directed him to an empty chair nearby Jess. "Sit," she instructed.

"Alright, alright, your majesty," Mike grunted. He settled down in the chair, which screeched against the cement as he dragged it closer to his girlfriend. "Hey baby."

"Hey Mikey," Jess responded, but she was almost too distracted by what was coming next to say anything.

Emily picked up two cupcakes and handed one to Mike and the other to Jess. Hers was vanilla with pale pink frosting— always overeager, she gave it a quick lick. Strawberry. Her favorite flavor. She looked from Mike, who had a chocolate cupcake, over to Emily, who was sitting back down in her seat after handing out cupcakes to everyone.

"Okay, you two," Emily announced. Her tone suggested that she was less than thrilled, but her eyes indicated otherwise. Her eyes were glowing hot coals, bundles of ecstatic nerves. "The filling in the cupcakes will tell you…" For the second time that day, she arched one brow and said, "…drumroll please…"— the others obliged, drumming their laps— "… the gender of your baby."

The bundle of nerves in Jessica's stomach exploded. Mike looked equally terrified, but at the same time relieved. She knew he'd been ready to look in that stupid envelope from the minute they got it.

"I guess this is it," Mike said. God, he was so handsome. He had a definite five o'clock shadow today and a jawline sharp enough to slice through a cake. Just like Emily's eyes, his were dark and they twinkled with suspense. His short-sleeved Henley t-shirt hugged his muscular arms. She had to check to make sure she wasn't drooling. If she had been, at least the cupcake could've been used as an excuse.

"I guess so," she said at last.

He lightly tapped his cupcake against hers— "Cheers!"— before taking a big bite. She mimicked this.

She'd squeezed her eyes shut before taking the bite, and she waited until the sweet mouthful was swallowed before opening her eyes.

The filling was blue. Blue!

"Oh my god, Michael—" Her words stumbled to a standstill as he turned his cupcake in her direction. "P- pink?"

"Jesus Christ!" Mike swore. He nearly slid off his seat while whirling to face the others. "Is this some kind of prank?"

"Mike…" she tried.

"Are we having _t- twins_ or something?" he sputtered, grabbing onto her arm. "Please don't tell me we're having twins."

Beth crossed her arms and spoke teasingly. "What's wrong with twins, Munroe?"

"Uh, nothing, just that would be _really_ overwhelming and something neither of us are prepared for at _all_ ," Mike rambled. The panic on his face was so painfully obvious. "Not to mention we don't have the space, or budget—"

"Mike!" Jess snapped. That shut him up. He spun back to face her, his forehead crinkled like the discarded tissue paper at their feet.

"Jess…" he rasped.

"Mike, don't be a dumbass. There is definitely only one baby. Don't you think the doctor would have mentioned if there was more than one?"

Emily sprang up from her chair as if the seat was heated to a hundred degrees. "No!" she seethed, snatching the two half-eaten cupcakes and glaring from the blue to the pink. She turned to Sam and Ashley, hands trembling. "I can't believe that ass hat in the bakery actually thought this would be funny!"

Sam sighed. "Maybe it was just a mistake."

"Mistake, my ass," Emily hissed.

Ashley eyed the vanilla cupcake in her own hand. "What _is_ the gender, then?"

Emily gestured fiercely at the dessert. "M- maybe the others are fine. Take a bite of yours and see."

The host obliged, sinking her teeth into the spongy cake. Then she turned it around to show the filling.

Emily nodded in relief. "Sam?" she asked. Sam bit into her chocolate cupcake, and the filling inside was the same color.

The rest of the group dug into theirs, and the remainder of the cupcakes were all the same exact color.

Pink.

Mike and Jess jumped up and she was swept into his embrace. She could feel his heart thudding hard through his chest, and it tickled her ribs. "Holy crap, Michael," she whispered into his shoulder.

"We're having a girl," he murmured. Then he pulled back, beaming broadly and placing his hands on either side of her belly. "We're having a girl!"

The awe on his face was heartwarming. She was just as astounded as he was. She'd had no clue what exactly to expect, but… this was a million times better than she could have ever dreamed of.

"Thank you for giving me a girl." She hugged him again, the others' cheers fading into a din in the background.

"You're quite welcome, m'lady," he answered regally.

"So, Thandie it is then?"

"Fuck no."

The entire group spent the rest of the night reminiscing and joking around like the sorry bunch of weirdos they were. As day gave way to night, Ashley flipped a switch, and a string of clear lights strung around the patio lit up. Chris went around lighting candles and swearing every time the lighter crapped out. As beautiful as their display was, Jess couldn't stop gazing at the sky. It was the kind of night where you could still see the clouds in the sky, blobs of dark blue against a speckled navy background.

A great name debate took place in question of Jess and Mike's daughter, though no real winner was proclaimed. Eventually, Josh began throwing out very odd names that would be pretty if they didn't already belong to contagious diseases. Mike cut him off by tackling him onto the lawn.

The two landed in the lush green grass, fluffy white dandelion seeds fluttering in the air. Mike was on top of Josh, wrestling him to the ground. "Say Chlamydia… one more… time," Mike grunted in the other man's face. "And I will bash your face in."

Josh's cackle was more obnoxious than a hyena's. "What?" he slurred. "It's a… _beautiful_ name."

"Yeah, just as beautiful as your pasty white ass!" Mike countered playfully.

"My ass happens to be very evenly tanned, thank you very much. Not like you'd ever have the privilege of viewing it—"

Josh was cut off by Beth, who was leaning forward off her chair with a few mouthfuls of white wine swaying in her glass. "Aw, y'know, I really do ship you two!"

Hannah unleashed one of her fangirl squeals. "Oh-em-gee, you _would_ make the cutest couple!"

Josh continued laughing his pasty white ass off, while Mike groaned and unpinned his arms from the ground.

When Matt passed out drunk a few hours later, the night dwindled to a close. Jess ducked inside the house to use the restroom, but when she headed back through the kitchen, she found Emily standing at the small island, alone.

"Em?" Jess asked, befuddled. The other woman was leaning on the sparkling granite countertop. The light strings outside barely sliced through the darkness of the room, but the thin sliver of light landed perfectly on a small box in Emily's hands.

"H- hey Jess," Emily hiccupped. Drunk. Just like the rest of them. Jess knew she should be grateful to have a clear mind and to not have to face a hangover in the morning, but she always seemed to have more fun when buzzed.

Jess rested her gaze on the box, which Emily had set down and slid across the counter to her. "What's in there?"

Emily sighed. "Jess… do you 'member that time i- in high school, I was a junior 'n you were a… sophomore? And we took that stupid quiz f- from Cosmopolitan magazine, the one where you had to know _everything_ "— she drew out the word, bangles jingling on the granite— "about your BFF? A- and you _lost_?"

Jess tilted her head. "Hmm… that does ring a bell, I guess."

"Because you said my favorite food was mac n' cheese when you _knew_ , you _know_ it's c- chocolate ice cream—"

"— with butterscotch sauce," Jess said with a smirk.

Emily gasped. "Even _I_ didn't 'member that."

The blonde shrugged. "Helps being sober."

Emily lazily stuck out her middle finger at her friend, showing off a flawlessly-applied coat of black nail polish. " _Anywaaaays._ You lost the quiz, and 'cause you lost the quiz you had to promise me something."

"Yeah?"

"You _promised_ …" Emily stumbled around the island, nearly knocking over a bowl of fruit. "Jessica, you _promised_ to name your first born after me."

Silence. The appalled look on Jessica's face became more pronounced with each passing second. Then "Shit. I _do_ remember promising that."

Emily spread her arms wide, offering her a "nothing I can do about it" grimace. " _Sooo_ I just wanted to remind you of that, _BFF._ And the proof is in that box," she stated, jabbing a just-as-well-manicured index finger in the box's general direction.

With that, she staggered back out to the patio, where the others were teetering around like a bunch of impaired Neanderthals trying to clean up the mess. Jess stared after her, jaw dropped. She forced herself to close it however, and carefully slid the lid off the box.

The box had probably once housed one of Emily's expensive necklaces, seeing the soft cottony cushion in the bottom. The expensive necklace was long gone, replaced with a far cheaper one.

Yet, as cheap as it was, it held far more sentimental value. Jess picked up the tarnished silver chain, cradling the charm between her fingers like a thin, fragile web.

Half of a heart, with jagged edges and all. Written on the charm in shiny letters was _"SISTERS."_

A memory flashed through her mind, as brief as it was vague. 2012, some boardwalk on some California beach. _"These are so stupid,"_ Emily said.

 _"No, no, c'mon Emmy! Let's get them,"_ Jess insisted. Two silver chains and charms swung back and forth, suspended like clock pendulums from her hand.

 _"Fine."_ Emily gave in easily, giving a grumpy roll of her eyes as they made their way to the checkout counter.

Jess knew what the other charm said. _"SOUL."_ Soul sisters. The necklace was buried somewhere in the bottom of a box or back of a closet back in Pittsburgh.

It made her heart hurt, knowing how drunk Emily was, and how she might not even remember their exchange come morning. If she did find out, she'd probably cover up her embarrassment with a mask of anger.

 _Maybe_ , Jess reasoned, _it's not always a bad thing to be the only sober one._ She was about to drive seven intoxicated people back to the hotel, suddenly the designated driver for the first time in her life. Somehow they'd have to all squeeze into Chris's five-seater SUV. But they'd manage. They'd managed before, hadn't they?

And then Jess would drag them into the elevator, with dumbass Michael drooling on her shoulder and Sam actually laughing at Josh's awful dad jokes. One by one (or two by two), they'd make their way back to their hotel rooms. Jess would hesitate at each door, making sure everyone got in okay and wasn't throwing up all over themselves. She'd step a few feet into Matt and Emily's room, necklace in hand, and tuck them into bed like her own children. Once Emily was asleep— and Jess knew she was out like a light with an abundance of alcohol in her system— she'd put that stupid necklace right back around Emily's neck, where she knew it had been for who knows how long.

Emily didn't really think Jess had missed that familiar glint of cheap silver hiding behind thicker, more expensive necklaces, did she?

And so Jess did just that, and when she left Matt and Emily's room, turned off the light, and settled into bed next to Mike, she felt the life shift inside of her.

Her and Mike's daughter.

Maybe to be named Emily Munroe, maybe not. Jess wasn't keen on keeping a nine-year-old promise, but she sure as hell was gonna find that _"soul"_ necklace in the back of her closet.

* * *

 **Okaaaay so this _might_ end up being more than 40 chapters? I dunno. This chapter went way too long, but I hope you enjoyed it. I really love writing in Jessica's POV, she's the best (well, after my Sammy of course.) Hopefully you weren't too surprised by the gender! I've known what it would be for a very long time now, probably around the time I wrote the original outline for this story in August. That was a very long time for me (and you) to wait for the reveal, but it finally happened! Thank god...**

 **Thank you all so much for reading and for the love, ya'll are the best!**


	37. Down the Aisle

**Ashley**

On the day of her wedding, Ashley woke up screaming.

She'd dreamed of sawblades. So many sawblades. Sawblades slicing through a wedding cake, white crumbs flying everywhere like droplets of blood. Sawblades tearing viciously through pure white veils and satin and fraying fabric. Sawblades hitting flesh, screams flying around her mind like trapped gas atoms.

And when she stood up to look in a shattered mirror, there were a million broken and battered Ashleys. Knotted red hair, skin crisscrossed with gashes deep enough to show stark white bone, a tangle of mauled white fabric barely clinging onto her body that used to be her wedding dress.

She thought the screams in her head were her own, but as seconds ticked by and she listened harder, she realized the screams weren't human. Wendigo screeches.

A long pair of arms appeared from behind her, reaching forward and yanking her backward into its monstrous jaws. She was flimsier than a piece of newsprint, ready to be maimed again, fresh scars, new unwanted tattoos buzzed on with scarlet ink. Truthfully, she wasn't ready— but she had no choice.

The interesting thing was, Ashley never saw Chris in her nightmares. Even though they'd spent the better part of the night together just the two of them, she never saw his face. Maybe, once or twice, she'd feel his presence in the dream, hear the harsh _bang_ of the gun as he shot at the sawblades, at the psycho, at himself. But his pained face, twisted in agony and raw fear, was always wrongly absent.

Ashley told her therapist about it, and after a while she told Chris too. The only explanation she was given that satiated her curiosity was one she'd formed in her own mind.

He didn't belong in that nightmarish world. Chris was a dream, alright, but he was a good dream, like those innocent day dreams that made her fall into a contented stupor during a professor's lecture. Sure, he'd been there in that hell with her in real life. But she couldn't, she wouldn't, associate that handsome face with rotting pigs, congealed pools of blood, and rusty pairs of scissors. There was no way she would.

So, usually when she woke up from these nightmares, Chris was right there to comfort her. She did the same exact thing whenever he suffered through one. It was hellish when they were apart those couple of years, both on the same coast yet still so far away from each other. To comfort herself, Ashley would slip a picture of Chris under her pillow, and clutch an old beanie baby of his that he'd passed on to her at some point. Sometimes it worked, and other times she was an insomniac for weeks at a time. She'd walked into Powell's way too many times barely functioning. In those days, she guzzled gallons of coffee at a time, or even a few shots of 5-hour energy when she was desperate. Sleep was her enemy.

This morning, Chris was not there to comfort her. Ashley startled awake, skin slick with sweat as if she'd just climbed out of a swimming pool. " _Chris?_ " she cried, clutching at the fabric of her old t-shirt. "C- Chris, Chris-Chris-Chris-Chr—"

Cheerful brown eyes swam in her teary vision. "The groom and bride can't see each other before the wedding, silly!" It took several wet blinks for Hannah's smiling face to become recognizable.

Ashley drew out a slow breath, mopping up the sweat on her arms with her sheets. It was then she realized she was not upstairs in her and Chris's bed, but on the couch downstairs in the living room.

She sat up more, watching as Hannah skipped off down the hall to the kitchen. Ashley continued taking deep breaths and holding her aching head. After a few moments of recovery, she looked around the room as memories from last night came to her in brief flashes.

She and Chris were separated yesterday evening, maybe as early as four, for their respective bachelor and bachelorette parties. Ashley had no clue where the guys had taken him, but the place she'd been dragged to had definitely been… interesting.

Sam and Hannah had wanted something more low-key, but the others complained that would be too similar to the get-together a few nights ago. After some back and forth arguing, the girls settled on going to a casual bar and grille that had live music. Everyone— except Jess, of course— got a little tipsy on sickeningly sweet margaritas. After the live band's show ended, the restaurant offered karaoke, and of course Jessica was the first one to step up. She sang a few vintage Taylor Swift songs and wasn't half bad, and almost all of the guys at the bar hit on her. Her responses varied, but Ashley's favorite was when Jess raised her middle finger, which had a ring on it, at the dude and said "Sorry, I'm taken." If he began to protest "but that's not your ring finger," she'd just move her hand closer to his face and pat her baby bump. "Do I _look_ single to you?"

The real "fun" began when Jess insisted the entire group come up on the makeshift stage. Ashley felt like a tribute for the Hunger Games as she was led up to a microphone. There were only three microphones, but somehow they made do. Ashley had felt even more embarrassed wearing the ridiculously glittery tiara Hannah and Jess had found for her from god knows where.

They, in Beth's words, "tore the place up" with their terrible singing. Yet, somehow, their audience always wanted an encore. Sam, who actually had some talent, lasted the longest out of the six. It was quite easy to convince drunk Sam to sing a few twangy country solos.

Sober Jess drove them all back to Chris and Ashley's house, and they spent the rest of the night and early morning hours having a typical girly sleepover in the living room. They watched Ashley's favorite Disney cartoon ( _Beauty & the Beast_, duh), opened a few presents (enough lacy nighties and thongs to give Chris a heart attack), then stayed up late playing "Truth or Dare" and "Fuck, Marry, Kill." Ashley could still clearly remember staring up at the dark ceiling from her place on the couch, trying to choose between three hot male celebs for FMK, and then the next instant she was launched into that sawblade terror.

They hadn't had a sleepover like that in ages, Ashley realized as she stared at the aftermath of that night. She and Jess were the only ones who got a sofa to sleep on, while the others were on a mixture of pillows and air mattresses on the floor. Jessica was still out on the smaller sofa, her pretty face slackened and peaceful from sleep. Emily and Beth were lying somewhat close on the partially deflated air mattress. Beth was snoring softly, only to be interrupted by a sharp kick in the shin from Emily's foot. Somehow all three of them had slept right through Ashley's screams. Or they'd ignored them.

Ashley finally stood up from the couch, taking a moment to stretch before shuffling down the hallway to the kitchen.

Hannah and Sam had totally taken over the room. The buttery scent of pancakes combined with the mouthwatering odor of coffee. Ashley could practically see the lovely smells wafting around her like tendrils of smoke, golden and delicious.

Sam spun around from where she was busy at the stove, and flashed the redhead a sheepish grin. "Ash… I hope you don't mind," she said, gesturing to a blob of pancake batter currently bubbling on a skillet. "We kinda invaded your kitchen…"

Hannah stepped in from the patio and slid the glass door shut behind her. "Storm's outside," she muttered, but then brightened when she noticed Ashley was there. "Oh, hey, Ash! Good morning."

Ashley chuckled, momentarily taking off her glasses to wipe off a smudge on the lenses with the corner of her shirt. "Morning. Don't worry about it, Sam. I told you guys to make yourselves at home, and that's exactly what you're doing! No harm in that."

She moved closer to the counter, but the only evidence of Sam's pancake preparation there was a half-empty bowl of batter. All the other dishes and the box mix were already cleaned or put away. Ashley shook her head slowly, stunned. _I don't know how she does it…_

"I was hoping the others would wake up from the pancakes smell too, but I don't think it's working," Sam explained as she slid her spatula under the now mostly solidified blob. In one swift motion, she flipped the pancake over and it landed with a splat and a hiss from the skillet. The blonde then grinned at Ashley. "You don't have chocolate chips stored away anywhere, do you?"

"I'm afraid not," Ashley said. "Though we do have some, like, two-week-old blueberries." She shuddered. "Though I think eating those _might_ give us the risk of contracting toxic mold poisoning."

Hannah rolled her eyes, lifting a mug of steaming coffee to her lips. "Sounds delightful."

Luckily, the buttery scent must've drifted down the hallway eventually, as one by one the other three trickled into the room. Beth looked grouchy as ever, and was eyeing Emily while limping on one foot. Her other leg was being cradled in her hand.

Jess had a major case of bedhead, but she flattened down the wild golden strands indifferently as she sat in front of one of the plates of pancakes. She rubbed her throat and groaned. "Guys, next time I want to sing 'Our Song' by Taylor Swift three times in a row, please convince me not to."

"I feel your pain," Sam sighed. "No more Blake Shelton solos for me." She placed the final stack of pancakes in front of Beth before sitting down herself. Ashley marveled at how fast she'd managed to prepare breakfast for everyone. She was like a freaking pancake factory. Hannah was the coffee factory (with the help of a very efficient Keurig machine.) All Ashley had done was slice up some fruit.

The girls munched their way through breakfast, only pausing in their chewing to swallow gulps of coffee. As Ashley picked the final chunk of pineapple out of the dish, Beth sat back with a content sigh. "Damn, guys. This was the best breakfast ever, thanks!" Emily and Jess were quick to contribute their own thank yous.

A short while later, Ashley was hanging out in the front foyer, waiting for the others to finish getting dressed. She wasn't in her wedding gown yet, of course— they were going to put their formal wear on at the actual venue. In the meantime, she'd quickly thrown in her contacts, an average t-shirt, and leggings. At this point, it was too hot outside for beanies, and Ashley couldn't help but feel self-conscious as she brushed a few strands of red hair away from her face.

Her mind still clung to that dream. Dammit, why did that have to plague her brain on today of all days? The sawblades stuck around in her mind like sticky cobwebs— even if swatted away, they still stuck to some part of you.

Ashley wasn't surprised to see Sam as the next person ready. She breezed down the front hallway, a bag slung over one shoulder. For some reason, she'd opted to keep her hair down today, probably in preparation for whatever extravagant things would be done to it later.

"Ash," the blonde grinned crookedly. Sam's eyes were a darker green than hers, yet still for a moment Ashley felt as if her anxious stare was being reflected perfectly. _How can Sam possibly be anxious? She's not the one walking down the aisle!_

"Sam," Ashley replied when she realized she hadn't yet.

Green flecked eyes drilled into her, dissecting Ashley like a frog in biology class. She shuddered at the gory thought— dissection day in junior year had also happened to be one of Ashley's rare "sick" days.

"Hey." Sam moved closer, taking Ashley's hand and squeezing it. "This is a big day for you. A _happy_ day. Don't let your nerves get the better of you," she comforted.

Ashley's front teeth dug into her bottom lip almost to the point of drawing blood. Blood was something she'd rather _not_ see at the moment, however, so she stopped biting. "I- I just don't— oh, god, Sam… I had another nightmare last night."

She loved Sam. She really did. But in those few precious minutes, where it was just the two of them without loudmouths Jess and Beth, and giggly Hannah, and those eye rolls from Emily that spoke volumes— all Ashley wanted was for those similar green eyes to shift into the pale ice blue that belonged to Chris. How could she bear not seeing him again for several hours still? And the next time she did see him, it would be in front of so many people. As if they were standing on a stage, two characters in a rom-drama, the audience waiting with bated breath for her to crumple to her knees and sob into his jacket.

She wanted Chris all to herself. And yet, despite it being their wedding day, the two wouldn't be completely and utterly alone until way too many hours from now.

So, Ashley sighed. _You're being ungrateful_ , a voice sang in her head. And she caved. And she accepted Sam's embrace, at least for the time being.

"Shh, shh," Sam soothed. Her voice was a lightweight, innocent whisper that relaxed Ashley's tensed muscles. Well, for the time being at least. "I know, Ash, I know… sometimes I can't get that night out of my mind either. But you know what?" Sam leaned back, giving Ashley's trembling hands another squeeze and maintaining firm eye contact. "It's your wedding day, god damn it. Today is the day you're _marrying_ Chris. And no stupid monsters can get in the way of your love. Okay?" When Ashley didn't answer right away, Sam straightened so they were more eye level. "Okay?"

Ashley smirked, sighing yet again, but this time in resignation. How did Sam always know the right thing to say? She accepted another gentle hug from the shorter girl before finally breaking apart. "Thank you, Sam. You always know just what to say," she said, repeating her thoughts out loud.

Sam stuck out her tongue and groaned. "Really? That was so cheesy, I can almost taste the saltiness in my mouth!"

Ashley gave her a gentle shove. "Not any cheesier than something Josh would say."

Just like that, the amused expression on Sam's face was gone. She looked as if Ashley had just slapped her in the face, and an appropriate blush was appearing on her cheeks. _All this, just from the mention of Josh?_ Ashley swallowed her fears, and replaced them with undying curiosity.

"Hey, Sam… I never told you, but Chris and I saw you and—"

Ashley was cut off by the always-grand entrance of Jess, and her three-person entourage behind her. "Ready, ladies?" Jess beamed.

Sam's smile was so fake, Ashley expected her to take off a plaster mask— but she didn't. "Yeah, I'm ready," the redhead said, allowing herself to be pulled out the door by her bridesmaids.

The venue still looked amazing. As Ashley drove the car up the hill, she felt like it was the first time she was ever seeing it. And, for the others, it _was_ their first time— and Ashley felt like she was experiencing it right along with them.

The excited chatter in the car shifted into thrilled gasps and squeals. "It's such a beautiful place, Ash," Emily said.

"I know," Ashley put on a lopsided grin, staring just as mesmerized out the windshield. "It is."

Time began passing at the speed of light, which bewildered Ashley. She'd always thought time passed by slowly on fun days like this. Today, however, that was not the case.

And so, as the hands on the wall clock inched closer and closer to the four, Ashley's heart rate skyrocketed. She kept wiping the palms of her hands, but seconds later the tiny beads of sweat would be back.

There was ten minutes left until she would walk down the aisle. Richard Brown was lingering in the hall, waiting patiently to lead his daughter to her future husband. And Ashley knew Chris was already up front, standing at the altar, probably trying to wring his hands free of sweat just like she was. Incoherent thoughts muddied up her mind, like fingerprints on a windowpane. _What if both of our hands are so sweaty that they're slippery and if they're slippery then we can't hold hands because they'll keep slipping and—_

"Ash." Ashley jumped about a foot in the air as Beth's hand landed on her shoulder. They were both gazing into the floor length mirror, though Ashley hadn't noticed the brunette until now.

Beth looked stunning in her dress. Her hair, which she'd grown out somewhat in the past six years, looked silky smooth and ended in a bouncy curve just past her shoulders. Her bangs were swept to the side, handing over more attention to her eyes, which were coated with eyeliner and mascara.

Ashley gulped. That response was enough for Beth, and the other woman just grinned and give her a one-armed side hug. "You'll do great. You and Chris were born for each other— everything's gonna be fine. And remember, lots of alcohol at the reception!" With a corny wink, Beth slipped away to chat with the others.

Ashley's grin faltered, and for a moment she got lost in her reflection. Jess and Emily had done something amazing with her hair— whatever it was called exactly, she had no idea, but hell… it was amazing. Most of her hair was pulled up, save for a few auburn corkscrews that framed her face. Hannah had taken care of her face, and she'd done really well too. Mascara, eyeshadow, watermelon pink lips. As much foundation as Hannah had piled on, it still wasn't enough to hide the natural blush.

And then her dress— oh, god, the dress. Ashley's heart still skipped a beat every time she thought of how Chris had researched that dress shop in Seattle and bought this gown for her. She wouldn't want to be marrying anybody else today.

Then, at last, it was time.

Beth and Chris's younger brother Mason were the first down the aisle. There were no flower girls to toss petals, though whoever in the group married next would probably be lucky enough to have Jess and Mike's daughter as their flower girl. That is, if she was old enough to walk at that point.

Then Emily and Matt went, both looking super attractive. Emily had a hairstyle similar to Ashley's, and it looked fabulous on her.

Jess and Mike, the dynamic duo. She definitely was glowing, no matter how much she denied it, she really was. Her hair was woven into a braid that trailed down one shoulder. She looked like Elsa from Frozen, and for a moment Ashley actually appreciated that movie rather than hated it.

Hannah and Chris's newer friend Lucas. He was a handsome guy, and Hannah was quite obviously drooling over him. Her hair was down, tumbling past her shoulders in thick, dark waves.

Finally, Sam and Josh. Ashley, of course, knew there was something up between the two, and yet they looked so natural as they walked with their arms linked. She was beautiful as always, with more makeup than usual and her blonde hair in a much more sophisticated bun. As tight as it was, though, Ashley could see a few wily strands coming loose. Josh was very dapper in his black tux, and any anxiety he might've had was well concealed under a mask of confidence.

The music droned on, but it adopted a more excited tune. Ashley met her father at the open double doors, and she knew in her heart that on a day like this, it was easy to forgive him. Yes, she wished her mother was here. Of course she did. But no matter how much she begged and pleaded, her mom could only ever be here in spirit.

And she was okay with that.

"Here," her father murmured. From his pocket, he pulled out a faux ivory hair clip that looked antique. "It was your mother's. I thought it'd be appropriate for you to wear this today, just like she did at our wedding."

Ashley inclined her head slightly, heart pounding in her throat as he fastened the clip among a few red locks. When she straightened again, the tears in his eyes were barely being held back. Ashley could feel her own tears coming on too. "Thank you," she whispered.

"Love you, baby girl." He kissed her head, linked his arm in hers, and together father and daughter began the short yet endless trek down the aisle, all eyes on them.

* * *

 **I'm sorry if this is full of typos, but I'm in a rush right now because I'm about to leave for somewhere. I will reply to all PMs tomorrow! Thank you all so much for reading, I love ya'll, and see you next time!**


	38. Vows

**Chris**

In all his life, Chris had never been sweatier. His hands, his hairline, the back of his neck, his armpits. Good thing he'd slathered on extra deodorant after his shower that morning.

For him, the past 36 hours had been going in slow motion. His bachelor party, breakfast, the drive over here, getting dressed, _everything_ moved at a snail's pace.

He felt so… exposed standing up there alone on the altar. Awkwardness was not a new feeling to him, but today he set an all-time record for awkwardness and discomfort. His tux felt too tight; the white dress shirt underneath the jacket was already stuck to his chest with— you guessed it— sweat.

Okay, well, Chris wasn't completely alone on the altar. A preacher was also there, an older man with only a few sprigs of gray hair at his temples. Chris refused to even consider the notion of making awkward eye contact with this guy, so he fixed his gaze on all the guests instead.

One way to describe the venue Chris and Ashley had chosen could be "rustic," or maybe "unique." In the not-so-humble opinion of Chris's many aunts and uncles, however, it was "odd" and "low class." Not for the first time, he wished this wedding could've been the intimate affair he and Ash had originally envisioned.

Chris didn't blame them though. Everyone was sitting in foldable metal chairs that scraped against the old oak floor at a painfully loud volume whenever someone twitched a muscle. The bride and groom had thought ahead to place small pillows on every chair, for the sake of comfort. Despite the pillows, however, the guests' squirming was still agonizingly noticeable from where Chris stood.

When the classic organ tune began to fill the room, the restlessness dissolved. One thought reverberated in every person's mind: _finally_.

Beth and Mason appeared first from the double doors, walking forward stiffly. Their body language screamed "we don't know each other, like, _at all_ " but the two made do with their partner. Chris was just relieved his hotshot little brother had been willing to fill in one of the empty slots for groomsmen. Chris and Mason had never exactly gotten along well; Mason had been in Jess, Matt and Ashley's grade but never hung out with the group. He was one of the jerky water polo players who always wore his blue varsity swimming jacket as much as possible. He constantly hit on other girls, though as everyone found out later that was just an act to cover up him being in the closet. Mason didn't come out until the day he graduated from high school. He was pretty smart like his older brother, and had enough credit to give a short speech. He stepped up onto the stage, leaned into the microphone, took a deep breath, then shouted _"Yeah, so… I'm gay!"_ before flipping off the crowd, grabbing his diploma, and jumping off the stage instead of taking the stairs. Years later, Chris's brother still had a floppy mop of dirty blond hair and blue eyes filled with mischief.

Matt and Emily glided down the aisle next, looking like they were performing some type of expert dance move. Then it was Mike and Jess— they were like Hollywood's hottest couple strutting down the red carpet. Lucas and Hannah came after them, and Chris stifled a laugh when he noticed how much she was drooling over him. She'd done the same thing at the brief rehearsal two nights ago, even when Lucas had been wearing a paint-splattered button down. Then, at last, the maid of honor and best man started their walk down the aisle. Chris studied them closely as they inched closer, then took their places on either side of the altar. Both appeared to be quietly stewing about something, though they hid their feelings well. Nevertheless, Chris saw Josh's shoulders droop in relief as he separated from Sam.

Chris leaned toward Josh and mouthed " _Rings_?"

Josh nodded, no trace of his usual troublesomeness on his face. He patted his side pocket meaningfully, and Chris's gaze dropped down. Then he squinted, hoping he was seeing things.

" _Josh_ …" he hissed.

His friend lifted his eyebrows.

"Is that…"— he prayed his whisper wouldn't travel past their tiny cloud of space— "a fuzzy belt?"

Josh looked baffled for just a second, then realization lit up his face. A dash of his typical spark returned to his eyes, and it was just enough to make Chris nervous. "I lost my other belt, so I had to steal the bathrobe belt from the spa," he explained.

Chris didn't even bother asking where in a Holiday Inn was there a spa. He just heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes then returned his attention to the big doors in the back. The entire room prickled with anticipation. The thighs of Chris's pants were grossly damp from him constantly wiping his hands on them.

The first Chris saw of his bride was a snippet of bright white fabric. Then she turned the corner, arm woven into a closely-knit pretzel with her father's.

His throat became clogged with a breath he was physically unable to take. His hands were slicker than a waterslide. He could've sworn his glasses fogged up a bit. Every hair on his body stood on end. And the cherry on top was the somersault his stomach took.

Never in his life had he seen a more gorgeous person than Ashley Brown. It was crazy to think that he'd met her through the tutoring program at their old high school— she needed help with algebra, he needed help with his English skills. He showed her the wonder of the Pythagorean theorem, and she showed him how to make his handwriting look slightly better than chicken scratch. He recalled feeling so stupid for crushing on a "puny freshman," as Josh used to call any ninth-grader.

And, now, as Chris stood up front watching that same freshman take careful, calculated steps toward him, he couldn't feel any less stupid.

He loved the way her eyes only seemed to see him. She looked right through everyone else— the guests, her bridesmaids, even her father— as if they were invisible. Chris copied her action, and acted like they were the only two in the room. It was just like that night a few weeks ago. Just them and the watchful moon peeking in from the set of large windowpanes behind the altar.

Like every hour, every minute, every second up to now, Ashley's walk seemed to take ages despite Chris knowing it was only thirty seconds, give or take. Her dad definitely hesitated before letting his only daughter go.

Chris could see the sheen on her eyes from unshed tears. Richard smiled somberly down at her, gradually detangling his arm from hers. It was only when they were fully separated that Ashley grabbed him one last time, engulfing the older man in a bear hug. He looked surprised, as if she was a stranger who had just pulled him into an arbitrary embrace. Then he gave her a few gentle pats on her back, sighed again, and let her go.

Ashley stepped up to face Chris. The beautiful bouquet of roses and other summery flowers was transferred to Sam's hands for the time being. Almost right away, bride and groom got lost in each other's eyes. Chris always adored how those green depths never failed to reel him in— it was a set trap he willingly walked into every time.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness and celebrate the union of Ashley Brown and Christopher Hartley in marriage. In the years they have been together, their love and understanding of each other has grown and…" The minister droned on, spurting robotic words that had been important to the many other weddings he'd officiated in the past— which, in a way, lessened the meaning of the words to Chris. Together he and Ash endured the speech, hands in hands the entire time. He could feel how sweaty her palms were too, and he could almost laugh out of solace.

The preacher's rumbling ceased, and Chris was quick to pull himself back down from the high he'd been on as nerves quickly set in on full force. It took him a moment to realize that they'd been invited to share their vows.

Oh _shit_. Shit! He was supposed to share his vows to Ashley, the vows he had spent hours working on and stressing about at his computer desk. The handwritten vows that were currently sitting on top of his closed laptop back at the house.

... _shit_.

Well, this wouldn't be the first thing Chris winged. He just hoped this time wouldn't be as disastrous as the last project he'd bullshitted his way through in junior year of college.

Chris cleared his throat, and what should've been a minor noise suddenly sounded louder than a wrecking ball in the enormous room. He squeezed his eyes shut, counted a few quick breaths, nestled her fingers deeper into his hands, and began.

"Ashley… I don't know where I would be today if it weren't for you. Well, for one thing, I probably would've failed English sophomore year of high school if you weren't there to tutor me. And I remember my friends always teasing me a- about how smitten I was, how I'd get this glazed look in my eyes whenever you were in the room. This will sound really corny, but it's the truth: I only have a few regrets in my life, but one of my biggest regrets is not getting to know you sooner." Another slow, steady breath rushed through his lungs. Inhale. Exhale. "I love you so much, Ash," he finished.

There was already a tear sliding down her cheek, tinged black from mascara. Chris couldn't help but reach forward and wipe it off with his thumb.

To his surprise, Ashley reached for a slip of paper that had been neatly tucked behind the neckline of her dress. It was a browned sheet of notebook paper, wrinkled and frayed by time. It almost looked like the same—

"Christopher Nathan Hartley, the love my life— you wrote this speech for me when you were in tenth grade and I was in ninth. I've read this paper over more times than any number could express, and after much thinking I decided to share a few lines of yours here." She adjusted the paper and held it higher. Chris watched, fascinated, as her eyes squinted at the paper and tried to decode his smudgy handwriting. "'I've never met another person who I connect so well with. They say opposites attract, and when I met you I realized how true that is. We're both nerds, but you're an English nerd and I'm a math nerd. That's all I really know about you so far— that you like English— but I swear on my life (and my PS3) that I'll get to know you better someday. I bet you're a lot more interesting than English anyway. Sincerely, Chris.'" Ashley bit her lip as she tucked the paper away again, and snagged his gaze. She slipped her hands into his again. "Chris… I have no idea why, out of all the people on this planet, you chose to like me. But I am constantly grateful you never chose anybody else to love. Thank you for choosing me." Her last couple words receded into a whisper, and Chris could feel his eyes growing misty too. He could hear the audience shifting in their seats, restless after sitting through the long vows.

But he didn't care. Those were the best fucking vows he'd ever heard in his life.

The officiant dipped his head and recited the timeless words.

"Do you, Christopher, take Ashley to be your lawfully wedded wife, promising to love and cherish her through joy and sorrow, sickness and health, and whatever challenges you may face, for as long as you both shall live?"

There was zero doubt in his mind. "I do," he promised. He could feel the blood pulsing in her fingertips, fizzing with excitement.

"And do you, Ashley, take Christopher to be your lawfully wedded husband, promising to love and cherish him through joy and sorrow, sickness and health, and whatever challenges you may face, for as long as you both shall live?"

"I do," she said. And he knew from the bottom of his heart that she meant it.

The priest nodded to the best man behind Chris. Josh produced the rings from his pocket and presented them to the bride and groom.

There was one cheesy line Chris had forced himself to memorize. He took Ashley's left hand in his and slid the diamond-studded ring on the appropriate finger. He smiled and spoke softly. "I give you this ring as a symbol of my love, as I give to you all that I am, and accept from you, all that you are."

A playful smirk formed on her face. She surprised him with her own short line. She slipped the gold band on his left ring finger, eyes glistening. "And with this ring, I thee wed," she murmured.

"By the power vested in me by the State of California, I hereby pronounce you husband and wife." The minister tilted his head, eyes sparkling. "You may kiss your bride."

Chris pulled her in close and crashed his lips against hers. She tasted sweet and beautiful and wonderful, just like always. And he couldn't wait to spend the rest of his life tasting those lips.

 **Josh**

The formalness of the wedding ceremony quickly transformed into a casual ambiance of the reception, which made Josh a thousand times more relaxed. He'd done his most important job— keeping track of the rings— and now his only other "required" task was the best man speech. And, well, to put it bluntly… Josh had that shit down pat.

He'd presented a short but sweet little thing at the rehearsal, but that was just him warming up. Chris had no idea the wild ride he was in for.

As everyone filed into the party room, Josh glanced around in awe. It was almost as large as the ceremony room, except the ceiling was lower and windows were few and far between. This made the room darker and also gave it more of a party atmosphere. Glass and paper lanterns gave off warm beams of yellowish light and cast interesting shadows over the many tables. The faint smell of food invaded Josh's nose, and his stomach rumbled to remind him that he hadn't eaten since lunch six or so hours ago.

He walked deeper into the room, taking in the modest dance floor and gift table. His eyes were quick to find the microphone at the front of the room however, and he grinned. Josh picked up a glass of champagne from his place setting, took a hearty sip, then moved over to the small platform where the microphone was.

Everyone was settling into their seats, leaning down to read the place cards. The caterers hadn't brought out the food yet, but Josh could smell the garlicky zest of Italian food— it was so close by, he could practically taste it on his tongue.

But that was later, and this was now.

Josh adjusted the microphone, then leaned into it and said, "Ahem."

Several pairs of eyes landed on him, and he smiled. "Yes, may I have your attention please?" The room's chatter quieted down. Josh found the bride and groom sitting at a table with their close family. Josh arched an eyebrow, raised his glass, and made direct eye contact with Chris. "Will the real Slim Shady please stand up?" he asked, dead serious.

He could see Chris's cheeks flare red from several yards away. "Josh!" he yelled, while Ashley hid a giggle behind one hand.

"Alright, alright. I'm sorry, bro, I couldn't resist." Josh spotted Emily, Mike and Hannah rolling their eyes, while Matt, Jess and Beth were also trying hard not to laugh. Josh tried to ignore the obvious fact that Sam had been seated next to him. _Fuck._ "No, what I really came up here to say is… congrats to Mr. and Mrs. Cochise Hartley!" Again he lifted his glass, as the others mimicked him and took a drink.

"Now, you all may be wondering where in the world I got the nickname 'Cochise' from. You see, Chris and I have known each other since third grade. Well, he was in third and I was technically in fourth, _but_ … let's just say I may or may not have been held back a year because of math. So the teacher moved our seats together, and we sparked up a friendship almost instantly. Blah, blah, blah, time goes on, and I start calling Chris 'badass,' because, y'know, that's what he was. And still is, of course. But one day the teacher heard us using that 'distasteful curse word' and we got in trouble. So I tried to find an alternative for 'badass' and long story short… I came upon Cochise. And it was perfect.

"But the same day I first called Chris Cochise, it was the same day he met Ashley. I'll never forget that day— October 26th, 2010. Your average Tuesday. It was a few days before Halloween, and the entire school was hyped up. Once again I was failing math, and you can guess who was failing math too. My buddy Cochise and I decided to head down to the tutor center in the library so he could find help for an English essay.

"And that was when he saw her. You'll _never_ hear me say this again, so listen closely: that was love at first sight. Cochise was never the same again after that day. He would have this dreamy look in his eyes, and he'd do all that weird lovey-dovey stuff like drawing a heart with A + C in it. It was ridiculous then, and still ridiculous now. Okay, maybe a little cute. But just a little.

"I honestly never could've imagined I'd be standing here one day, giving the best man speech at your wedding. But I'm so glad to be here, really. Thank you, man, for choosing obnoxious lil' me to be your best man." Josh raised his glass one last time to the polite applause, before stepping down from the tiny stage.

He passed Chris's table on his way back to his seat. Chris gave him a gentle punch on the arm. "Obnoxious is right," he teased. "But thanks, bro."

The corner of Josh's mouth twisted into a grin. "No problem, bro."

* * *

 **Thank you all so much for the love! You're all too kind :) I hope you enjoyed this, I know it was corny but I had fun writing it!**


	39. Understood

**Sam**

 _Jeremy: Having fun at the wedding? Sorry I couldn't come!_

 _That bastard…_ This text was accompanied by a kissy-face emoji that made Sam sick to her stomach and oh-so-very annoyed. Jeremy had backed out at the very last minute, and had the nerve to wait until she was standing in the airport to call her and let her know he wasn't coming. Sam knew it was stupid to have invited him in the first place, but… well, she'd promised to bring a date. She doubted Chris and Ashley were offended that she hadn't, but it was still embarrassing all the same.

Her fingers moved at a quicker speed than her brain. In three seconds flat, her slime ball coworker's number was blocked and deleted from her contact list. She stared, gaping, down at the steadily growing screen for a moment before sighing in resignation. She was about to slip the stupid device back in her purse when it was snatched out of her hand.

Sam twisted around to look at the offending party. Beth was standing there, one eyebrow quirked as she waved the phone teasingly out of the shorter person's reach. Beth's date to the wedding, Olivia— who _had_ been able to show up— was a grinning woman with short strawberry blonde hair. Olivia stood next to Beth like a quiet shadow, though her smile wasn't quite as wicked as Beth's.

"Samantha, what the hell are you doing on your _phone_ at a wedding? You're supposed to be socializing and partying"— at Sam's eye roll, Beth was quick to add "—partying in a _civilized_ manner."

Sam gritted her teeth and stood from her chair, lunging for the iPhone, but Beth stood on her tiptoes, balancing precariously in her high heels. "Beth!" Sam groaned in defeat. She still gave one last half-hearted flail of her arm, but it was pointless.

Beth rested her hand on a hip, and the champagne in her glass sloshed dangerously close to the lip of the skinny glass. "You're Ashley's _maid of honor_ , and you're supposed to give the bouquet back so she can throw it to all of Chris's squealing female cousins." She jerked her thumb at a bouncy cluster of early twenty-somethings beginning to gather near the dance floor. Sam already felt so old just looking at them. Only a few years ago, she could've blended into that group of giggly twenty- and twenty-one-year-olds. _Crazy what a couple years can do to you_ , she thought as she pushed her chair in and grabbed the bride's bouquet.

She'd already given her maid of honor speech soon after Josh's oddly touching best man speech. Then everyone had eaten a hearty Italian dinner, despite Ashley's family having very Irish roots and over half of Chris's family being Jewish. Luckily there had been plenty of vegetarian options for Sam, who had indulged on two heaping platefuls of eggplant parmesan. Now she was so full of cheese, marinara sauce and champagne that she could barely stand straight in her heels.

Ashley took the bouquet from Sam with a wide yet shy smile, then she turned around and threw the flowers backward over her shoulder.

All eyes were on the bouquet as it sailed through the air, a few petals coming loose and fluttering to the floor on the way. Chris's younger sister Camila— the wedding photographer he and Ashley had hired for free— snapped pictures nonstop with her professional camera.

At first Sam couldn't tell who had caught the flowers; it was someone in the dead center of the crowd. Gradually, the girls parted, and revealed none other than Jess standing with the bouquet grasped in her hands.

Sam quickly found Mike hanging nearby the tables with Matt. His face went a few shades paler, and he downed the rest of his champagne.

Jess, never one to shy away from attention, smirked and held the flowers triumphantly in the air. She walked past Ashley, gave her a high-five, and then pointed the bouquet at her boyfriend. "Take this as your final warning, Michael!" she called teasingly, batting her eyelashes before melting back into the crowd and out of Sam's view.

Next the four-tier wedding cake was brought out. Camila crouched in front of the table, camera poised and flashing as Chris and Ashley sliced into the cake together and fed each other their first bites. At one point Ashley got a glob of white frosting on her finger, and she wiped it on her new husband's nose. In retaliation, Chris wiped some on her mouth, and they both ended up kissing the icing off. It looked like a scene taken right out of a cheesy romantic comedy.

The night wore on, with the dance floor becoming crowded as various well-known songs cycled through. Chris and Ashley had their first dance as husband and wife, with Camila circling around them and taking a constant stream of pictures.

Sam had been able to park herself at an empty table in a back corner, since nobody was concerned with place settings anymore. A lot of couples were currently slow dancing out on the floor, bathed in the warm yellow light of the lanterns. Chris and Ashley looked so deeply in love that Sam almost felt a spark of jealousy in her heart. There had never before been two people so perfectly suited for each other.

Then there were others, like Matt and Emily, who were arguing at the side of the crowd. He had a full glass of wine in his unsteady hand, although Sam could've sworn she'd just seen him finish a glass a few minutes ago. Hannah chatted animatedly with her date Vince. He seemed like a nice enough guy, if only Sam could look past his thin, greasy mustache. He didn't seem nearly as happy as Hannah did, because she kept shooting frequent glances over his shoulder at Lucas. At least she had someone new to obsess over besides Mike.

But at the same time, Beth and Olivia were dancing fearlessly, nose-to-nose, oblivious to the scrutiny they received from a few of Chris's more old-fashioned aunts and uncles. Mike and Jess were entwined in a slow dance like all the others on the dance floor. As Sam watched them, Mike inclined his head and Jess stood on her toes so that their lips could meet. When Sam checked back on them five minutes later, they were still glued together.

Josh was dancing with one of Chris's bubbly female cousins, but he was noticeably distracted. His eyes were darting back and forth, scanning over the crowd. Looking for someone who was hopefully not Sam.

More time passed, and she found herself wishing Beth had been more obvious about where she'd hidden Sam's phone. Several guys, young and old, came by to offer her a dance, but she politely declined every time— even the cute ones. She repeated the phrase "No, thank you, I don't dance" more times than one could count.

Sam was so out of it that it took her a second to notice Jess had taken the empty seat next to her. The other blonde was picking at the dregs of the wedding cake on a paper plate.

"Hey Sam," Jess greeted her. She sounded surprisingly downcast considering she'd been making out with her handsome boyfriend a few minutes earlier.

"Hey," Sam sighed in reply. She leaned forward in her chair, clasping and unclasping her hands.

"Huh. Do you see that?" Jess asked suddenly. Sam looked up and followed where her friend was pointing to with her fork. Hannah was now out on the dance floor, making the moves towards Mike. _Okay, so maybe I should backtrack on what I thought earlier. She's still into Mike._ "It's been what, seven, eight freaking years? And she's still all over him." Jess shook her head slowly and laughed. "But honestly, I can't even blame her anymore."

Sam watched the people on the dance floor for a moment. "Come on Eileen" was beginning to play, and Hannah was trying out a very awkward dance that only highlighted her level of intoxication. Her "date" Vince was now swapping spit with one of Chris's many cousins in the darkest corner of the room. Seeing that disturbing sight gave Sam too many senior prom vibes.

Sam suppressed a snort of amusement— after all, Jessica was more than making up for both of them in amount of belly laughs. "Why don't you go back out there, then, and show her he's your man?" Sam suggested. That was definitely not something she'd say while sober, but Sam was not sober and so the restraint she usually kept on her tongue was now loosened.

To her surprise, Jess shook her head again. She leaned back and rested her hand lightly on her stomach. "Trust me, I would. But I think this baby will kick me into next year if I stand up anytime soon." She met Sam's gaze for a brief moment, eager to change the subject. "What about you? Go out there and get that skanky brunette out of Josh's face."

Sam sat up faster than she'd intended, her eyes raking the crowd. "What?" she demanded. Immediately she tried to relax herself. "Er, I mean… what does it matter? He's single, isn't he?"

"Sam, don't give me that fake shit." Jessica's pretty eyes rolled as she propped her chin up on one hand against the tablecloth. "I think you two would be great together, if you'd just give it a try."

After a lot of searching, Sam located Josh to the right of the crowd, spinning around with a cousin to the ending chords of "Come on Eileen." He looked significantly happier than when she'd last seen him; his cheeks were flushed from dancing and his eyes bright like green gems. To her dismay, she felt a rush of warm blood go to her face, and she knew Jess could see how red she was.

"It's not easy as you might think," Sam finally said. She shared a forlorn glance with her friend, a grim grin perched on her lips. "Josh and I… we're not as compatible as, well, as you and Mike, for example."

She was startled by another chuckle from Jess. "Who ever said compatibility is important? If everyone based relationships off of compatibility, Mike and I sure as hell would not be together."

Sam tilted her head in confusion. "But you two were always popular in school and—"

"Sam." Jess reached for Sam's hand and gave it a squeeze. "Honey. I know you're usually the woman of wisdom in our group, but this time let me give you some advice."

"Okay?"

Jess took a deep breath, tucked a blonde strand behind one ear, and began. "Love is all about trust and understanding, not how well you 'go together.' And to come to an understanding, you can't hold your feelings back all the time. Take Em, for instance. She's honest, brutally honest, but that way everyone always knows exactly what she thinks of them, good or bad. If you and Josh just talk it out, then you two can come to a conclusion, good or bad. Why not at least try? Life's short. Just go for it, and if things don't work out with him, then you'll still have your friendship. I think after six years apart, the ties in this group are too strong to be broken by a failed hookup."

Sam winced at her last couple words, but still she nodded. She'd never expected Jessica to be so… well, thoughtful. "Thank you, Jess."

"Don't mention it." Jess sat back in her chair and took another bite of cake. "Now go out there and _talk to him_."

Sam frowned worriedly at her. "But will you be alright back here on your own…? I feel bad leaving you—"

"Girl, do not worry about me," Jess insisted. "C'mon." She gave her a nudge. "Go before you chicken out!"

Grudgingly, Sam obliged, standing and taking her small bag with her. With every step closer to the dance floor, however, there was another irritating flutter in her stomach. What ever happened to brave, adventurous Sam? This wasn't her. She was hardly ever nervous.

Sooner than she would've liked, she captured his gaze from across the room. Josh excused himself from his dance partner and began walking over in her direction. Instantly Sam's fluttering stomach dropped to her feet. She turned and bolted.

She careened around the corner, went through the even larger ceremony room, and out the back door. She nearly twisted her ankle running in those stupid heels, so she took them off for the time being.

It was a brisk night for June, which explained why the reception was being held inside. She could small rain in the air, and the grass was still springy and dewy from that morning. She curled her toes into the wet blades, relishing the cool sensation.

Sam had maybe a couple minutes out there alone, but Josh wasn't far behind. She heard the double doors creak open then whine shut, and she didn't bother turning to see who it was.

"Sam," he said softly. "Will you please look at me?"

She obeyed, but kept her eyes coolly narrowed. "What?"

His shoulders slumped. "Why do we keep torturing ourselves like this?"

A surge of emotion raced through every vein in her body. She stood up straight, dew droplets bouncing around her ankles. "Josh, why do we even _try_ at all? Whenever we try to love each other, it gets fucked up all over again, and that just drives the knife deeper," she seethed.

"That's because you don't let me in! How are we supposed to love if we fight every time we see each other?"

"There's always something to fight about," Sam replied.

"Yeah," he scoffed. "You, the pacifist, insisting on fighting."

She was trembling with pent-up fury. She was shaking so hard she could feel it in her bones. The cool evening breeze wasn't helping. Tiny bumps formed on her bare arms, and she eyed Josh's long-sleeved jacket enviously. "Don't turn this on me!" she yelled. "You don't seem to care at _all_!"

His brow furrowed. "Don't care at—? Sam, I do care! I care about you a lot."

"I didn't mean me," she spoke quietly. "I meant _you_. You don't care about yourself." He opened his mouth to protest, but she steamrolled right over his words. "I know you've gotten better, I know you take your pills, I know you go to your appointments. But I can still tell you're not all _there_ , Josh. I see it in your eyes, I see it in y- your posture, I see it in that fake smile you're always wearing. If we're going to be together, I need you to be yourself. I need you to never be afraid to open up to me, and to always tell me if something is off. I need to know the real you, Josh, because I'm not sure I ever did know the real you all those years ago."

She watched the healthy blush in his cheeks, either from windburn or from anger, fade away to leave pasty skin. He looked ghastly pale, with no trace of the lovely olive skin he and his sisters had been blessed with. "Sammy…" he murmured. "If I tell you e- everything, then y- you—"

"What?"

"You c- can't leave me." She could see his fingers curl into fists squeezed so tight the white of his knuckles was visible. "E- everybody always leaves me, my parents a- and Hannah and Beth say they're there for me but they always _leave_ and you and I always hate each other and…"

"Your sisters need to have their own lives too, and so do I. I can't be there for you every second of your life, Josh, okay? My sole purpose in life is not to fix you, nor is it anyone else's. What we can do is be there for support, and we can help you along your way—"

"No. No, no, no. Don't say that," Josh hissed through gritted teeth. "Don't say 'we,' don't say 'us,' or 'anyone,' or 'everyone.'" He opened his eyes and held her gaze steady. "Say 'I,' Sam. Just _you_. I want you to say that _you_ will support me, because I know _I_ will support you. You— you always say, 'we'll be there for you, Josh,' but t- that's not—"

"I'll be there for you, Josh, as much as I can." She moved closer to him, close enough to see the stress lines carved into his face. "I'll always care about you and support you, because _I_ ,"— another step closer, taking his hands in hers— "I love you."

She felt his breath on her face, coming out in slow puffs. The stress lines began to melt away. He didn't hesitate long before saying it.

"I love you too, Sammy."

For the second time that night, she cursed her height and stood on her tiptoes. He slipped his soothingly warm hand under her chin, caressing the soft skin along her jawbone, and bridged the gap between their mouths.

She tasted remnants of wedding cake on his lips, sweet and very tempting. He pulled away sooner than she wanted him to.

"The hotel is only a few blocks from here, but I think I know a back way," he whispered.

"You _think_?"

"I _know_ a back way," he repeated.

She nodded, and so he took her hand and led her down the hill and away from the building. They sprinted fast, longer grass tickling their legs and spraying them with sweet dew. She was giggling in such a way she hadn't in years.

They rushed through the hotel lobby, breathless and freely ignoring all the stares. They chose her room on the left of the hallway, and that was when things slowed down.

Josh was a tease. She'd lean in and try to pull his face in towards hers, but he'd inch away at the last second, a devilish smirk on his face that mirrored Beth's. Eventually Sam grew tired of his shenanigans and whirled him around by the shoulders, pinning him against the wall. She could feel her blood pulsing in her veins, livened by champagne. She wasn't drunk off her ass— she still had her wits about her. But the alcohol did help give them both a light, cheery buzz.

His jacket had long ago been discarded onto the desk chair, and now she was working her way down the buttons of his shirt. She loosened his bowtie and he shrugged the clothes off along with his pants. His fingers were nimble as they danced over her bare back, sending shivers of pleasure down her spine. For him pulling down the zipper of her dress was a breeze, and unclipping her bra was hassle free.

That entire time, their lips were fused together. But as soon as the clothes were crumpled on the floor, Josh began leaving trails of kisses elsewhere. He made a path of them down the side of her neck, along her collarbone, and further. She tried to return the favor, but he was so busy generating pleasure for her that it was nearly impossible for her to.

They shifted over to the bed, and Sam was startled when she registered his fingers in her hair. She craned her neck slightly to aid him, and soon after realized he was freeing her hair from the clips and bobby pins Emily had put it in hours earlier. After fifteen or so seconds of struggle, he succeeded and the golden locks brushed her shoulders.

Josh threw the pins and clips over his shoulder and grinned. "Wow. Sammy with her hair down. Never thought I'd see the day."

" _Psh_ , you've seen it down before!"

"Yeah, but…" His eyes were gorgeous green slits. "… not like this."

She was too breathless to reply, and he seemed okay with that. As that day dwindled and was reborn into a new one, she slipped into his embrace, allowing herself to become immersed in his world. They didn't speak again until a while later, when they were buried under the thin sheets and tangled in each other's arms. She couldn't tell where she ended and where he began.

He was half asleep and his voice sounded blissfully at peace for the first time in a long time. "You're so beautiful," he muttered into her hair.

She opened her eyes slightly and lazily stroked his chest. "I love you," she told him. She really meant it.

Jessica's words rang in her head again. _Love is all about trust and understanding._

Sam trusted him.

Sam loved him.

And, for the first time in maybe ever, she understood him. There was still a lot to explore between them, but that was something she was fully committed to doing. It was a shame it had taken her so long to realize it, but she wouldn't change anything for the world.

 **Ashley**

It was late when Ashley and Chris were finally able to go home, like _late_ late. Their departure from the reception hadn't been the most classic of endings— they had to drive in their separate cars in order to drop their friends off at their places. (Interestingly, Josh had sent Chris a text saying he and Sam left early, for unspecified reasons.) Others insisted on driving instead, but the bride and groom had actually ended up drinking the least of anyone because they'd been too busy dancing or awkwardly socializing with family. Before leaving, they had to spend a long time saying and hugging goodbye to each and every person on either side of their families.

Ashley followed Chris's SUV home, and she parked along the curb while he took the driveway. She was quite sure she'd never get the opportunity to drive in a wedding dress again, so at least that was an experience.

Before she could even get out of the car, however, her groom— no, her _husband_ — was at the door to open it for her and help her out. They weren't even at the sidewalk before he'd picked her up in his arms. Chris of course wasn't the strongest of guys, but Ashley had always been on the lighter side. He began wheezing a little at the front door, but he insisted on carrying her all the way up the stairs to their room.

They were booked on a flight to Maine the next morning. They were visiting a small coastal town there for their honeymoon, a place they'd always wanted to see that boasted a nice bookstore for Ashley and lots of lobster for Chris (he could survive on lobster alone for months). They weren't familiar with the east coast, so it would be new for both of them and she couldn't wait.

But as for right then, they were sitting in their room with the lights off. The night sky looked in from the window, speckled with stars that looked like lights on a Christmas tree.

"Isn't there something you're forgetting?" Chris asked.

She squinted in the darkness, barely making out his shape as her eyes adjusted to the dim light. "What?" She looked down at her gown, which wasn't nearly as comfortable as it had been when she first put it on that morning. "Do you want me to put on—"

"Woah, woah, before that," he interrupted. He walked over to his nightstand, tux jacket slung over one shoulder, and bent to open a drawer. She vaguely recognized the rectangular shape of the object in his hand. It almost looked like—

"June 26th, 2021. Today you're a published author, baby." Chris sat down next to her on the bed, the mattress bouncing underneath them. He offered the copy of _Borne of Darkness_ to her, but it had a sticky note on it.

Ashley peeled the note off and read over it quickly. It was a number.

"According to your publisher, that's how many copies you sold today, online and in stores," Chris said.

Her jaw dropped. Her hand shook. Her eyes widened in amazement.

 _1,354._

In retrospect, it was probably a pretty small number, but to her it was everything. People wanted to read her stuff. People were _interested_. All that waiting, all those rejection letters, all the negotiating with editors… it had all been worth it. And this was just the first day on the shelves. There was tomorrow, and the day after that, and many weeks and months and years to come.

"Right now, there are people out there reading your book and falling love with your writing, Ash. Your talent is getting the recognition it deserves." Chris slung an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in close to him. "I'm so proud of you, my beautiful, marvelous, intelligent wife."

She barely had the breath to thank him, and as soon as she did, she tugged his face over to hers and kissed him deeply.

Ashley was married to the nerdiest, cutest, most amazing man in the world. She couldn't be any more grateful.

"So," he said, retreating for a moment but holding their eye contact. "What was that you were saying about, um… putting something on?"

She giggled and hopped up from the bed. "Stay right there. I'll be back in a sec." She slipped into the bathroom down the hall, taking a thin box along with her. As she began to strip from her wedding dress, she reminded herself just who she was now married to as of today.

The biggest, most awkward nerd ever.

And damn it, she loved him with all her being.

* * *

 **Okay, so this will definitely be going over 40 chapters at this point. Probably won't be any more than 45, but there's still a little ways to go yet before this story is finished, so no worries!**

 **I would also like to give a _long_ overdue shoutout to Anarchist's Rose! Right now she has three amazing Until Dawn stories going: While the World Crumbles We Stand Strong, Fairy Lights, and Hell's Circus. I am in love with her writing style and I think if you hop on over to her fics and check 'em out you definitely won't regret it!**

 **Thank you all so much for reading, favoriting, following, and reviewing. Our long journey through this story is not quite over yet, so stick close by and get ready for the big finale coming up :D**


	40. As A Friend

**This is more of a filler chapter before the big MikexJess one coming up next! Don't worry, there's still plenty of drama in this one though. Thank you so so much for reading, leaving kudos and commenting :D Love you all!**

* * *

 **Matt**

"Seven times, Matthew! This has happened seven times now and I am so beyond done with you."

Emily's voice grated on Matt's ears. They were in their hotel room the next morning, and the effects of last night's champagne were just now getting to him. Their plane back to New York was due to leave in three hours; all of her things were packed up and neatly sitting by the door, while his suitcase sat open at the foot of the bed, dirty and clean clothes not used during the trip strewn all about.

Matt groaned as he bent over to retrieve a sock from the carpet. He gave it a quick sniff— dirty. He tossed it on the dirty pile sitting on the left side of his suitcase before returning his attention to Emily.

"Babe, this is actually the eighth time," he sighed. Matt could only assume that was their lucky number she was referencing: seven-turned-eight big fights in the last six years since the mountain. He barely had the strength in him to argue with her, especially considering it felt like two hammers were pounding his temples at the moment.

"Seventh, eighth, whatever," she replied. "You're not helping your case by correcting me so… so… arrogantly."

Last night was a blur to him. A liquefied, messy puddle of events that he did not possess the willpower to sort through. After all, he figured, Emily was about to do the sorting for him. Matt climbed to his feet and shuffled off to the bathroom. He heard Emily's angry steps trailing him.

"Are you even going to apologize…?" she demanded, standing in the open doorway of the bathroom as he turned the faucet on. "Oh, wait, let me guess. You have zero recollection of what happened last night, don't you?"

He leaned against the granite vanity and let another low groan escape past his lips. The coolness of the counter seeped into his elbows and traveled up the skin of his arms, leaving goosebumps in its wake. The running tap water roared in his ears, louder than jet engines. "No, Em, I don't remember anything. I'm sorry."

"Allow me to explain for you, then," Emily said. "You drank six glasses of champagne at the reception, enough so that you were too far gone to even try dancing. I was able to detach a seventh glass from your hand, but then you sneaked off and I found you with… with someone." Her rant tapered off abruptly, and he could see her throat visibly tremble around a swallow.

After rummaging through his toiletries bag for a minute, Matt had been able to find the bottle of aspirin he was looking for. Now he had a couple of the tiny white pills sitting on his tongue while he filled one of the hotel's plastic cups with water. "Whataya mean… with someone?" he asked, voice distorted due to his tongue sticking out.

She waited until he'd taken the pills before speaking. Her voice was so low, and words so unstable, that he had to hold his breath for a moment in order to hear them.

"I- in a back corner, b- behind one of the tables… I saw you w- with… Hannah."

His entire body froze and tensed up. Inadvertently, the plastic cup was crushed in his fist. He asked the question neither of them wanted to hear. "… what were we doing?"

She didn't answer. Instead, she stepped closer to the door and took ahold of her belongings. "We should get going. The next shuttle to the airport is in ten minutes."

Matt's stomach felt painfully hollow as it fell to the floor along with his heart. His brain was like a big mass of lead, and he cradled his head with one hand as he stumbled back over to his suitcase. Carelessly he threw the rest of his things inside, zipped it up, and heaved it off the bed and out the door. The pair marched down the hallway in silence, the only sound being the door clicking shut behind them.

Mike and Jess were the only others waiting in the lobby, which made sense because they had the next soonest flight after theirs. Both appeared tired but content as they shared a large armchair. His arm was wrapped around her shoulders, and her hand was enclosed in the hand of his other arm. The spark of jealousy Matt felt right then was undeniable, and he hated himself for feeling it. A slew of questions snowballed back and forth in his mind.

First off, how did he end up with Hannah, of all people? After years, she still had eyes for Mike, father-to-be or not. And everybody had noticed her indulging in the eye candy named Lucas. She'd been hanging off that dude's arm like an excited child when they walked down the aisle. At some point during the night, she'd transferred her affections over to Matt and he had no idea why or how.

He had always admired her from afar, he supposed. She was cute, with a pretty face hiding behind those large glasses. Very early on, Matt did have a short-lived crush on Beth, which always made him wonder if that meant he technically was crushing on Hannah too. They did have the same face, all things considered.

And the next question nagging him: what did Emily do when she found him and Hannah doing… well, whatever they were doing? Matt's best guess was she yanked them apart as if they were a pair of fighting dogs, then dragged him out of the building. He had vague recollections of lying in the backseat of a car, presumably Ashley's or Chris's SUV. Then he'd woken up in their bed in the hotel.

Emily had already been awake and up by the time he roused, so there was no telling if she'd even slept next to him during the night.

Matt snapped out of his troubled thoughts, as the rumbling engine of the shuttle could be heard just outside. The four of them hopped up and headed for the bus.

Just before they boarded, Emily muttered something in his ear.

"When we get back to New York, I'd like you to gather up your things and find a place of your own. And maybe a job, too, while you're at it." There were a few beats of silence, then she added, "I… I think it's for the best that this time, the split is final."

Words failed him. They sat on opposite sides of the small bus, ignoring the puzzled stares from Mike and Jess. Matt gazed out the window the entire ride to the airport and gave one-word responses or grunts in response to insistent questions from his friends.

It took him a good twenty minutes to realize he was still in his white dress shirt from last night. The black jacket was nowhere to be seen, and his bottoms had switched from the dress pants to baggy gray sweatpants. He tugged at the top two buttons of his shirt, trying to rid himself of the choking sensation currently seizing his throat.

Even when the buttons were undone, he was still choking. Tears pushed at the back of his eyes. There was a wail rising up his throat, the kind that could only be washed down with alcohol. And as soon as they arrived at the airport, he made a beeline for the nearest bar and left the others in his dust.

 **Beth**

Last night, Olivia had warned Beth that she had to leave very early in the morning. They wouldn't be able to fly back home together. Her date had work and responsibilities to get back to sooner than Beth did.

Despite having plenty of forewarning, the bed still felt so cold when Beth came to the next morning. The sun was too bright and too cheerful as it sliced harshly through a sliver of space between the curtains.

Her flight wasn't until the early afternoon, and seeing that it wasn't even nine o'clock yet, she decided to sleep in. She had just rolled over onto her other side when there was a quiet knock at the door.

"Beth? Are you awake?"

Hannah. God, dammit. Beth's response to her sister was a protest in the form of a loud grunt.

"Please, Beth. Open the door."

Beth took her time rolling out of bed, sliding one leg at a time off the edge. By the time she had lumbered over to the door and opened it, her sister was very antsy and collapsed into the room. Beth stared with bleary, sleep-glazed eyes as Hannah situated herself at the foot of the disheveled bed.

"Well?" The word came out gravelly and barely understandable, so Beth cleared her throat before going on. "What's the problem?"

"Okay, so you know how last night was kinda crazy a- and—"

"'Crazy' is an understatement, Han. Mike and Jess sang a karaoke version of 'Marvin Gaye' and at the end he failed a split. I'm shocked we didn't have to drive him to the ER."

Only the tiniest hint of amusement appeared on Hannah's face, but it was gone in an instant. "That wasn't the worst thing to happen. B- Beth… I don't know… how t- to…"

Beth leaned forward, concern carving lines in her forehead. "What happened?"

Her twin screwed her eyes shut, plastered on a grimace, took a deep breath, and announced, "I- I kissed Matt."

Silence. Beth slipped her hands out of her sister's and stood up from the bed. Slowly she paced up and down the small room, eyes darting all over the place, landing on anywhere except Hannah. A terrified whimper sounded from behind her.

"Beth…?"

"Just gimme a sec. I need to… I need to process this," Beth told her. After a few more paces, she returned to Hannah's side and inhaled sharply. "Okay. Tell me everything."

"Beth…"

"Every detail."

Hannah fell back onto the bed, and as Beth copied her the mattress bounced. "Vince— my date— he ditched me for one of Chris's cousins. And Lucas… well, I didn't want to bother him. I noticed Matt and Emily arguing nearby where I was, and so I went to comfort him after she went storming off. He was really drunk, Beth, not just a little tipsy like the rest of us. I don't know how much he had, but… it was a lot. And we were sitting at one of the tables in the back, and at first we were talking but then it turned into… more than talking. I knew, I know what I did was wrong, but I couldn't stop myself."

Beth gently nudged her sister's side as they looked up at the off-white stucco ceiling. "Well, at least Emily didn't—"

"No, she found us. I remember she yelled something and then took Matt with her. I- I dunno what happened with them after that since we went home in separate cars." Hannah hid her face behind her hands. "Oh, god, Beth… I really screwed up. After all the drama, all the hell this group has been through together, we were all finally getting along. And now I just messed it up again."

Beth wasn't quite sure what she could say to comfort her. She lay there opening and closing her mouth for a solid minute, then finally settled on "Well… at least we're all going home today. You'll be across the country from them. It'll all be fine."

Hannah turned onto her right side so she could face her sister. She peered at Beth through tear-streaked glasses, and with a mournful sigh she tore the spectacles off and threw them to the side. "What if they broke up because of me?" she whispered.

"Oh, you know Em… she'll come around."

"Beth, she's not like that at all! She's one of the worst grudge holders ever. I just fucked everything up, didn't I?"

Beth sat up, and helped Hannah up. "Nah, I wouldn't say that. Look… you know what'll make you feel better? Let's go get breakfast, and bring Sam along! I don't think she's left for the airport yet, so we can say our last goodbyes."

Hannah sniffed. "Alright, I guess so."

After Beth threw on something vaguely more presentable than an old t-shirt and pajama shorts, they headed a few doors down to Sam's room and Beth knocked on the door.

"Yo, Sam. It's Beth and Hannah. We were wondering if you wanted to grab breakfast with us?"

 **Five Minutes Earlier – Sam**

Sam had never found waking up to be a difficult thing. She'd always been a morning person, the early bird who could jump out of bed at five in the morning to go jogging without uttering a single complaint.

But this morning, damn, it was hard. She never wanted to leave Josh's arms. She would stay attached to his chest for the rest of her life if she could. The reminder of her flight in less than six hours from now, all the way back to Chicago and far away from him, kept prodding her half-conscious brain. After enough poking and prodding, Sam was fully awake.

She popped open one eye and found Josh was up as well, albeit barely. His eyes were at half-mast and his cocky grin still held traces of last night's champagne. She sat up slightly, eager to kiss that smirk right off his face.

Clearly he was awake enough to reciprocate her actions, and he did so with enough passion to make her want to slip under the covers and into his embrace all over again.

She pulled back briefly to look in his eyes— if nothing else, it was a lovely reminder of just who she had slept with last night, and who she was currently making out with again. She wanted to say "good morning," but the words died on her lips as he lured her back in.

A moan whispered off her tongue and into his parted lips, and she leaned back once more to rest her head on his chest. She was partially on top of him, her upper half draped over his torso. A genuine smile began to form on his face, but before he could say anything there came a knock on the door.

"Yo, Sam. It's Beth and Hannah. We were wondering if you wanted to grab breakfast with us?"

Cue panic mode. Sam shot upwards and almost kneed Josh in the balls in the process. As she ripped herself away from his warmth, she cringed and raked at the sheets, trying desperately to untangle them from her bare legs.

Beth's voice leaked through the door again. "Sam? You awake? I thought you were an early riser."

Sam's eyes shot over to the alarm clock on the nightstand. It was 9:05 a.m. Jeez, this damn well might be the latest she'd ever gotten up in ages. She dug through her open suitcase to find an outfit and called back a reply. "Yeah, sorry! That sounds great, I just need a sec."

Once she had a pair of leggings and a camisole on, she was ready to open the door— except there was still one issue. Sam whirled around and gestured fiercely at Josh. When he didn't get the hint, she mouthed, "Go hide!"

He began to stand up from the bed, jaws splitting in a wide yawn. He whispered back, "Where?"

She made a motion with her hand for him to keep his voice low. "I don't know! Just find somewhere!" she mouthed.

He staggered off somewhere and grabbed his boxers on the way. Sam circled around the bed and kicked any remaining loose garments underneath it. She leaned in front of the mirror, smoothed out her hair, took a deep breath, opened the door, and threw on a wide smile.

"Hey, guys! What's up? Sorry about that, I still wasn't dressed yet. Got up a little later than usual today."

She noticed Hannah looked a little red-eyed, but other than that her friends seemed not too hungover from last night. Beth grinned and nodded. "It's all good. You ready?"

"Yep, just have to… grab my…" Sam paused, spinning around and scanning over the room. Shit. Where the hell did she drop her bag last night? She remembered being glad to get rid of her purse and flinging it out of their way soon after getting through the door.

She walked all around, scanning over the desk and the chair, over the TV stand and, hell, even inside the mini fridge and the cabinet. It was nowhere to be found in the mess that was her suitcase.

"Do you need help?" Beth asked, and Sam tensed as the two stepped inside the room.

"Um…" Sam crouched down to check under the bed. Nope, just her bridesmaid dress and his suit, all crumpled up as if they were on the sales rack at a Goodwill.

Things only went downhill from there. As Sam glanced back and forth between the coat closet and the bathroom door, she realized that those were the only two places Josh could've hidden. And if he were to be found, by his sisters no less… that would be pure chaos.

"Are you looking for your bag? Maybe you left it in the closet or something," Hannah suggested. As she approached said closet, Sam's eyes grew three sizes larger, and she flung herself in front of the door just in time.

"I- I know it's definitely not in there. Oh well, it doesn't matter, breakfast here is free anyways, isn't it?" she stuttered nervously.

Beth shook her head. "No, this isn't an Express hotel. You gotta pay if you want Starbucks, Sam." She tilted her head, bemusement obvious on her face as her eyes fixed on something over Sam's shoulder. "Uh… I found your purse."

Sure enough, it was on top of the lamp on the nightstand closest to the window. Sam groaned, irritation and relief flooding her at the same time as she moved to pick it up. "Oh, thank go—" She halted in her tracks.

Laying on top of the bag was a black bowtie, and peeking out from under it was a fuzzy white bathrobe belt. Something Josh had said just before the wedding yesterday flashed in her mind: "I lost my regular belt, so I had to use the one from this bathrobe. It looks weird but hey, at least it's comfy!"

It was all over. She was done. Sam stormed over and snatched up her bag, allowing the undone bowtie and belt to fall to the ground, lighter than feathers.

"So, who stayed over last night?" Hannah teased. Her tone was subdued, but still playful. She knew who it was. Everyone had seen and known about the stupid fucking bathrobe belt.

Beth looked stunned. Sam hung her head like an ashamed puppy, defeat clear in her voice. She lifted her gaze to Beth, but still her friend wouldn't look at her. There was a pair of fierce brown eyes flicking back and forth between the bathroom and closet doors.

"Beth?" Sam asked.

 **Beth**

Without an ounce of hesitation, Beth stomped over to the closet door and threw it open. And—

Empty.

She breezed over to the bathroom door and yanked on the handle hard enough to almost snap it clean off the door. And—

What the hell? Empty. There was only one place left. She took one final step and whipped back the shower curtain. The shower rings squealed against the rod, almost concealing the surprised yell from the man who had been cowering behind. Almost.

Josh was clad only in his boxers, trembling in the freezing porcelain chamber he had been banished to. Beth shooed her brother out of the tub and chased him back out into the main room. He hugged Sam from behind, likely to try and absorb some of her body heat, but she shrugged him off. Josh slinked off to the bed and immersed himself in the sheets, glancing unabashedly from one sister to the other.

"What the hell, you two?" Beth shouted. She didn't give two shits if they were in a hotel and people were still sleeping in on this lovely Sunday morning. She wanted answers, and she wanted them now.

"Beth." Hannah stepped forward and placed her hand on Beth's shoulder. "It was only a matter of time before this happened, you know." She spoke so matter-of-factly, it made Beth's blood boil. Wow, how quickly their roles had switched around.

Josh spoke up from his nest of sheets. "Hannah Banana is right. This was bound to happen at some point."

Sam stood with her arms crossed, her eyes diverted to the floor. Beth despised how her voice broke when she spoke again. "S- Sam… I don't…"

Her friend, the girl she had known since seventh grade, the girl who Beth had been crushing on for so long, the girl who had just consummated her relationship with Beth's brother, looked up at her with her head still lowered.

"I'm sorry, Beth," she spoke quietly. "I didn't want you to find out like this." She turned slightly to include Hannah. "I didn't want either of you to find out in this way. I guess… I guess Josh and I… we're gonna try to make it work." A shy grin perched on those ruby red lips of hers, but that shy smile wasn't for Beth. It was for Josh.

It was all for Josh.

"Sam." Her friend's name was out of her mouth before Beth had a second to consider it. "Could we, um, talk outside for a second?"

"Sure. Of course," Sam agreed.

Beth could feel Hannah's knowing gaze on her as they headed out of the room. Right before the door clicked shut, she heard Josh release an overdramatic battle cry and slam a pillow into Hannah's arm. She rolled her eyes as she leaned against the opposite wall; it was like they'd left a pair of children to their own devices. She could only hope there wouldn't be pillow remnants scattered all over the place when they reentered.

"Is everything okay, Beth?"

Beth already knew the answer to that question. No. No, things sure as hell were not okay. She loved Sam, and after so long she had finally gotten a confirmation of where Sam's loyalties romance-wise lay: and they weren't with her.

She let her eyes wander over the beautiful woman in front of her. Hazel eyes flecked with shards of green. Wavy blonde hair, fair and shining and golden as ever. That kind, anxious smile, and smeared mascara from last night that still made her look remarkably attractive. Sam could probably get hit by a car and still look exceptional right afterward.

"Sam, I've… I've loved you for a long time," Beth said. There was no point holding it back any longer, so she let it all pour out, an unfiltered torrent of word vomit. "I never knew how to tell you, because I wasn't sure you felt the same way. And now I know for sure that you don't. You choose Josh, a- and that's okay. Because he needs you, Sam. My brother needs an amazing person like you, someone reliable and trustworthy and faithful. Every person needs a Sam in their life, and he's the lucky one who gets the all-original you." A shaky smile crept onto Beth's face. "I- I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier. And I'm so sorry I'm only telling you now. I honestly thought the stupid crush would go away after six years, but it didn't. Damn, it was persistent, because you don't look a day over nineteen. You're just as gorgeous as you were that night, before everything went to hell. The last time I saw you."

Sam didn't reply at first, just rushed into Beth's arms and enveloped her in a bear hug. She exhaled, and her soft breath tickled Beth's neck. When they separated, Sam still clung onto her hands. "Beth, I'm… I'm sorry. But thank you for telling me. I- I love y—"

"No. Don't say you love me just as a friend." Beth shook her head vigorously, still smiling through tears. "You don't have to do that. I already know as much, so hearing it out loud might make me break down."

Sam leaned in close to her, and every muscle in Beth's body stiffened as those misty green eyes flitted about and took in every detail of her face. "If I can't say that, then… at least let me give you this," Sam murmured. Then she leaned in the rest of the way, closing the gap between them and placing her lips over Beth's. It was the shortest kiss Beth had ever experienced. She was shocked to realize that, once Sam had broken the kiss and held her in another tighter embrace, she didn't want more.

Samantha Giddings had just kissed her. And Beth felt like she'd just brushed her lips against, well, a pillow. Probably it would've been more enjoyable if Sam's feelings were mutual, but they weren't.

And, well, Beth could live with that. It had only taken years, but at last she knew what it was like to kiss Sam. It wasn't an exhilarating experience at all.

Besides, she had a new girlfriend now named Olivia.

Yeah, everything would be just fine. She could get through this, just as long as she knew her brother could finally be happy. Deep down, Beth knew that Sam would make Josh happier than anyone else could ever dream to.


	41. Happy Ending

**Pittsburgh**

Over the next several months after Chris and Ashley's wedding, life ran smoothly for Mike and Jess. Well, sure, there were a few bumps in the road, of course. Who didn't experience any bumps or bruises or… oh, fuck it.

Life was tough. Those "bumps" in the road were more like huge hurdles they kept tripping over. And when they tripped, they fell flat on their faces. Hard.

Jess started her new job, a profession that finally put her interior design degree to use. According to her, however, it was a downward spiral from the moment she first set foot in that building. People, particularly creepy old men, gave her a difficult time. She wasn't even sure she'd be able to gain maternity leave.

"I told them I was pregnant at the interview," Jess complained to him one night over dinner. "And they made it clear I would be free to go on maternity leave, to hell if it's early on in my career there. And now they're saying 'Oh, we're not sure. We'll get back to you on that.'" Her eyes were wide, panicked, as she threw her arms up in the air. "Michael, I'm gonna be giving birth in that office!"

One bright spot in their first week back home was Mike's birthday. He was shocked to find an e-mail in his inbox from his father. It read as follows:

 _Dear Mike,_

 _Happy 23rd birthday! Can't believe you're another year older. Congrats._

 _-Michael Sr_

Sure, he'd gotten the age wrong, but it was the thought that counted, right? Mike could only _wish_ he was turning twenty-three, not twenty-six. At least Jess took care to make him feel as young as twenty that night.

There were many other events of note in those months.

For example, one day Mike decided to take Wolf to a dog park and drag Jess along with them.

"Mike, are you sure this is a good idea?" Jess asked.

They were driving in Mike's car with Wolf bouncing around in the backseat. The windows were cracked to give the dog fresh air; and boy, did Wolf accept that fresh air. He crammed his nose into the small space, tongue lolling as he propped his paws on the back of Mike's seat.

"What? C'mon, it'll be fun. Wolf's a good boy, aren't ya, buddy?" Mike reached one hand back and wiggled his fingers, subjecting them to a slobber bath.

Jess crossed her arms over her chest. "I just… I dunno. What if he's too… playful?"

" _Too_ playful?" Mike furrowed his brow. "Is there such a thing?"

"Yes, if he ends up killing another dog, there is. Like, what if he accidentally tramples one of those really little dogs? We've only given him basic training. He could break out of his leash, or jump the fence, or—"

"Jess. Honey." Mike squeezed her hand. "Wolf is not gonna kill anybody. The worst case scenario is he slips out of his leash, but I promise I'll keep a tight hold on him, okay? Everything will be fine."

She heaved a sigh. "If you say so."

The car turned into a parking lot for the park, gravel crunching under the tires. Mike pulled into a parking space, and the three hopped out of the car and stopped in front of the entrance to the park.

"Alright, buddy," Mike said, crouching down and linking his hands behind Wolf's shoulder blades. "Promise you'll be a good boy?"

Wolf's only reply was a whine and a tug on the leash towards the park. Then his head bobbed up and down as he reared on his hind legs like a horse.

Mike smirked up at Jess. "Looks like a nod to me."

"Well, not to me," Jess mumbled.

The second they were inside the fenced area, Wolf's whining turned into excited _yips_ , then from there they became full-on barks. The puppy lurched forward and pulled Mike right along with him.

Jess hung back by a bench, shaking her head as she watched the dog drag her boyfriend across the sea of dogs, owners, tennis balls and frisbees.

Wolf pulled Mike all the way to the other side of the park. The dog then stopped abruptly, white fur bristling, in front of another young Husky.

"Oh, hello, there," Mike spoke gently as he leaned down to let the strange dog sniff his hand. "Where's your owner, fella?"

The next ten seconds were an unstoppable whirlwind. Wolf took advantage of Mike's distracted state and yanked on the leash, which slipped off Mike's wrist. He then pounced onto the other Husky and, to his horror, the two dogs began play-wrestling.

In a _huge_ patch of mud.

"Shit! No— no, come back here— Wolf! Please, Wolf, buddy, c'mon… no! No, down, boy! No—!" Jess ran over and her desperate cries soon joined his.

Cue a scene of Mike and Jess getting back in the car with Wolf, all three splattered with mud.

"Well," Mike said hesitantly. "Guess we won't be doing that again."

Ever so slowly, Jess turned her head and set it at just the right angle to convey her irritation. "You think?"

Wolf leaned forward between the two and lowered his muzzle onto the center console. Mike stuck out his lower lip and rubbed him behind his ears.

"Aw, Jess. You can't stay mad at that face!"

"No, I can't," she replied curtly. "But I _can_ stay mad at yours."

 **oo0oo**

In mid-July, they got a call from Jessica's mother.

"We're all eating dinner at the tavern tomorrow night at six, if you would like to join us."

Mike was full of questions. "What does she mean by 'we're all'? And what tavern? And why did her words sound like actual ice?"

Reluctantly, the two accepted the invitation, and the next evening they climbed into Jessica's car— since Mike's still had some mud caked into the seats— and she began driving toward the Ohio border.

"Really, Jess. What's the tavern?" Mike asked as they merged onto the highway.

"It's… it's this place my parents used to take me and my brothers when we were kids, before we moved," Jess explained haltingly. "I… don't know why we're going back now after twelve years."

When they entered the restaurant, they were almost immediately waved over to a large booth by not just her parents, but also her brothers, her sisters-in-law, and her two nephews and one niece.

One thought came to the forefront of Mike's mind: _fuck_.

This was the first time he and Jess were seeing any of her family since the big blowout in May. She had called her mother a while ago to apologize, but from the pinched look on Susan's face, not everything was fine and dandy quite yet.

Jess got ushered into a spot next to Brendan's wife Monica, while Mike was shoved into a spot right in between Phil and Zach. Now their only method of wordless communication was playing footsie underneath the table.

"So," Susan said. "You look great, dear." She nodded at Jess and was met with five seconds of stunned silence.

Then, cautiously, Jess nodded and smiled. "Thanks, Mom."

Silence quickly regained rule over the table, and Mike shifted uncomfortably in his seat. When he glanced at his lap, he could see Phil playing Candy Crush and Zach checking sports stats on their phones. Mike wanted to kick himself for forgetting his device in the car.

He had just buried his nose in the menu when Brendan slammed the table and let out a very hearty, and very fake, laugh.

"How about we get some appetizers? On me."

Then baby Cayden started crying. Monica excused herself to tend to her son, and still the family was silent.

Then Mike leaned forward and grinned at Brendan. "How do onion rings sound?"

The rest of the night went the same way. Phil and Zach sat on their phones, Brendan slammed the table to wake everyone up, Jess and Zach's wife Elizabeth exchanged muted, awkward thirty-second pleasantries. Zach and Elizabeth's kids, Jacob and Ava, were antsy and kept swinging their legs under the table. Susan kept a steady stare on Mike the entire time.

The tension was almost too thick for their poor waiter to wade through; multiple times he would create a wide semicircle around their table. He only ever swung by to get their orders, deliver the food, and drop off the check. Mike saw the guy's shoulders sag in relief when the group said no to dessert.

They were getting ready to depart when Susan requested to speak to Mike and Jess alone before they all went their separate ways. Mike's heart froze, and his instinct was to gently kick Jessica's shin under the table. She gritted her teeth and kicked him back, an equally mortified expression on her face.

The couple followed her mom out of the restaurant and to the side a bit, out of the way of the doors. Susan exhaled loudly and clasped her hands in front of her waist.

"Jessica, Michael." She wove her fingers into a different shape. "I believe I was… unfair to you two a couple of months ago. Phil and I both wish to apologize for our rash behavior." Susan lowered her head, brown bob swishing. "You should be free to live your lives the way you want. If that means doing things a little"— she swallowed and shot a meaningful glance at Jessica's rounded stomach— "out of order… then by all means, go for it."

Mike and Jess shared a glance. It felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. The strain in his neck, the pain in his ass, the thorn in his side— it was all gone! He smiled gently at the older woman and scratched behind his head.

"Wow, um. Thanks, Ms. Riley. It really means a lot—"

"Michael." Susan reached forward to give him a few stiff pats on his upper arm. "Please. Call me Sue."

His grin persisted. "O- okay. And… you can call me Mike, if you want."

"I think I'd rather stick with Michael."

"… okay. That's good too."

 **oo0oo**

A few weeks later, Mike arrived home from work at eight in the evening. It was a blessing it was summertime, because the sky was still a cheerful blue as he pulled into the driveway.

He'd texted Jess hours ago warning her he would be later than usual. He usually got home earlier than her, so it was odd to see the lights on and hear the TV as he walked up the stairs to their door.

He threw open the front door and clambered inside. The foyer lights were on, but the living room was dark. As he stepped inside and peered closer, he caught a glimpse of his girlfriend's face. Jess was illuminated in the bluish light of the TV, wearing one of his t-shirts she'd stolen from his closet. His shirts used to swallow her whole, but not so much anymore.

A few more steps closer, and he noticed the wet paths left by tears on her cheeks. She let out a sniffle and crammed another handful of popcorn into her mouth.

Mike didn't waste time running over to her side. "Babe? What's wrong?"

Her only response was a mournful wail. Mike shot a side glance at the TV, then did a double take.

She was watching _Titanic._ It was the part where Jack and Rose stood on the ill-fated ship's upper deck, clutching each other.

 _"When this ship docks,"_ Rose said eagerly, _"I'm getting off with you!"_

"Nooo!" Jess sobbed. She plunged her hand back into the large bowl of popcorn— her belly was being used as a shelf for the bowl, which was admittedly clever on her part— and went on, "Don't say that, Rose! No, no, no!"

Mike wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Hey, hey, it's okay," he soothed.

"No, it's not!" Jess sniffed. "She doesn't know w- what's gonna happen! Jack won't—"

Mike reached over her to grab the remote from the armrest. He hit the pause button, and the screen froze on young Leonardo DiCaprio's handsome face. Jess had told him once that Leo's eyes were like blue gemstones— and she wasn't wrong.

He pulled her in close, rubbing her upper arm as he reached for some popcorn with his free hand. "You've seen this movie before! Why do you always let it tear you apart?"

"I dunno…" she sighed. "I was bored, flipping channels, and I saw it was on. I also was craving some popcorn with—"

She was cut off by a yelp from Mike. He leaped to his feet and ran to the kitchen to scrape half-chewed popcorn off his tongue. By the time he returned to the TV room nursing a glass of water, she was laughing her ass off.

"What the hell… was on that popcorn?" he croaked.

"Chocolate syrup. And a little bit of paprika." Jess shrugged, smirking as she watched him down another couple gulps of water.

"Paprika—?" Mike sputtered. He swung back around and pointed to the microwave popcorn box sitting on the counter. "That's _movie theater butter_ popcorn, Jess!"

Her teasing smirk was now a full-blown smile. She popped a few more pieces in her mouth and giggled. "Well, it wasn't really _me_ who was craving that, Michael. It was the baby."

Mike sat back down gingerly. "I hope our kid won't still like that combo when she's out, because I don't think they sell chocolate and paprika flavored baby food."

Jess rolled her eyes. "Then we'll make it ourselves. And throw in some spinach or whatever to make it nutritious. Now…" She paused, shifting so she could curl more into his side. "… if I hit play, do you promise to cry with me?"

Mike looked down at her. God, she was so beautiful. Even with her hair pulled up into a messy bun, and smudged mascara down her face from the tears, and bits of chocolate sauce around her mouth— she was still the most beautiful woman in the world.

He leaned down to plant a kiss on her lips, and to lick away some of the chocolate. Then he grinned. "I'll watch it with you, but I won't be crying."

Less than twenty minutes later, they were both crying.

 **oo0oo**

It was a hot day in early August when the air conditioning broke. The unit outside had somehow been damaged in a recent storm. Their neighbor downstairs had pooled his money with Jess and Mike's to repair the unit, but that still wasn't for a few more days.

Until then, their place was sweltering. It felt as if the broiling sun had followed them inside, unable to be kept out even if all the shades were drawn. Box fans were stationed in every room, their gentle hums all combining to form a deafening rumble. Wolf, originally terrified of the "fan pack," now was fearless and regarded them with the nonchalance of any old piece of furniture.

Along with the pounds of dollars dropped on box fans, rotating fans, and handheld fans, Mike went to the grocery store at least once a day. His purchases there often included whatever his girlfriend's latest craving was, and gallons of warm-weather drinks. Lemonade, chilled wine, bags of ice, and, of course, iced tea.

Three days into the "Broken AC Saga," Mike was in the kitchen making himself a glass of iced tea. He yelled to Jess, who was lounging in the other room.

"Y'know, I can't believe the air conditioning hasn't been fixed yet. What the hell is taking them so long?" Mike called. He pulled a few chunks of ice out of the freezer and dropped them in a tall glass.

"Go downstairs and ask Garrett what the problem is, then," Jess replied.

Mike sighed. "That's the thing— he doesn't know either. Says he keeps calling the place but they won't give him a direct answer." He grabbed the tea from the fridge and poured it into his glass. The ice crackled and shifted as the liquid splashed over it.

"Mike…"

"What?" Mike was distracted. The tea kept rising higher and higher in the glass. By the time he noticed it was still pouring, it was right at the rim of the glass.

" _Miiiiike_!"

He recognized her tone of voice, when she drew out his name like that. He tensed, and began to spin around with the full glass still in his grasp. "No, no, wait Jess wait—"

She rammed into his back, her arms wrapping around his abdomen and squeezing him tightly. Mike jumped, wincing as his ice-cold glass of tea splashed onto the counter, floor, and worst of all, himself. Ice cubes toppled all over the place, sliding and shattering like chunks of glass. The freezing liquid instantly seeped through Mike's thin t-shirt, and a combination gasp/shudder rippled through his body.

"Oh, shit!" Jess cried, giggling anxiously as Mike spun the rest of the way around. She assessed the spill and nibbled on her lip. "Shit, Mike, I'm sorry."

He couldn't find the will within him to be angry at her. She was too beautiful for him to care much about getting doused with iced tea from the depths of the Arctic Ocean. She had on the famous red flannel shirt, though at this point only the top two buttons were able to stay closed without eventually popping open. Her hair had fallen out of a ponytail, blonde waves tumbling past her shoulders, and her eyes sparkled with that mischievousness that made Mike weak.

"Distracted, Michael?" she hummed, reaching up one hand to trace her fingers along his jawbone. "You seem a little bit… _wet_."

"Yeah, because of you," he replied.

She laughed. "Well, maybe I can fix that for you." Mike felt a tug on his soaked shirt, and seconds later she'd ripped it off of him, droplets flying.

Mike gave her arm a light shove. "Hey, who said you could take my shirt off?"

Jess shrugged. "The same person who said you could take my shirt off."

Moments later, Mike had undone the two buttons of her flannel. "I can hear the fabric sighing in relief," he teased.

She pushed him back. "You are such an ass."

"Why are you wearing that shirt, anyway? You have to be hot in those long sleeves."

"There was nothing else clean," she said. "I've gotta do laundry."

He smirked. "Or maybe _I_ could do the laundry."

A raspy noise came from her throat. "Mmm, nothing turns me on more than hearing you say you'll do the laundry."

Mike grinned. "C'mere." He pulled her in close and brought their lips together.

The kiss lasted several seconds, but she cut if off suddenly and grabbed his hand. "Foot," she muttered, and Mike could feel a fizzing excitement spread from her nerves to his. She guided his hand to her stomach, and under his palm he felt the tiniest of movements graze his skin.

"That's insane," he said. Tears pushed at the back of his eyes.

"Good insane or bad insane?"

He hesitated. Their eyes locked, fuzzy brown and intense blue-gray. "Good insane," Mike told her. She smiled, and pulled him back in for another long kiss.

 **oo0oo**

The broken air conditioning unit stayed broken for several more days. When the box fans didn't seem to work anymore, the two— sometimes three— of them would pile into the car and drive to someplace cold. Most of the time they would hang out in the grocery store, taking their time and strolling leisurely down aisles, bathing in the cold air.

As the remainder of August crept onward, they frequently Skyped their friends. Sam and Josh came out as a long distance couple. Birthday gifts were sent out for Ashley, Sam and the twins.

And then, the overwhelming heat of that month abruptly gave way to a chillier September. The box fans were crammed into a closet for next summer, and the newly fixed AC was silenced in favor of the furnace's warmth.

The change in weather wasn't the only advancement. Every day passed was one day closer to her due date: September 24th.

At this point, Mike had a calendar on the wall at home and at work. He kept a red Sharpie next to each one, and marked a big "X" through one day after the next.

Their impatience during this countdown was aided by harried, last-minute preparations. They argued for a week about what color to paint the baby's room— pink, Mike insisted; Jess wanted pastel green. In the end, they settled with a very pale pink. They also grudgingly went to one couples' yoga class— and promptly left it, laughing at the oddity of it all.

And, of course, there were her problems with body image. Jess still wasn't completely over the scars she'd gotten from that night. He could see the bothered glint in her eyes, whenever she took her makeup off at night and looked in the mirror. Now her focus had shifted to her size and the resulting stretch marks she would be bound to have.

Mike was considering putting together a book called "Comforting Statements for Your Pregnant Significant Other." He'd used so many of them, after all.

"The only huge thing here is the size of your beauty and charm, m'lady."

"Babe, who gives a fuck what anyone else thinks? You're hard at work crafting a new life. If they have a problem with that, then clearly they have a stick shoved up their ass."

"Dear Jessica, I'm afraid there's no more room for any beauty in this room; you've exceeded the limit."

One time, Mike even entered the room carrying Wolf like a baby. The puppy was almost at his adult size now, and his long legs flailed as he tried to escape Mike's cradling arms.

"Ugh, do you think newborn babies are this heavy?" he grunted as he bent to let the dog jump down.

Jess paused from her scrubbing. She studied him for a moment, then blew a lock of hair away from her face and returned to work. "Probably," she said, "judging by how enormous I am."

Mike crossed his arms. He wracked his brain, trying to find a statement equally as creative as his previous ones. All he could come up with was "You're not enormous, Jess. You're beautiful."

"Thanks, Mike," she answered tersely.

He knelt down next to her. "And why are you scrubbing the baseboard? I thought you did that last week."

"I saw it was dirty again," she said simply. She moved the wet rag along the surface. "This house won't ever be clean enough! Every time I turn around, there's another freaking speck of dirt and—"

"Here. Allow me." Mike reached for the rag and dipped it back into the bucket of warm, soapy water. "I'll work on cleaning this, and you rest."

He helped her up and waved her away. "Go on. I've got this," he insisted. "I'll make it squeaky clean, don't worry."

Jess shuffled down the hallway to their room, a grateful sigh whispering past her lips. "I honestly don't deserve you, Michael."

Mike didn't reply, choosing instead to place all his focus on wiping the baseboards. His mind thought back to the book he currently had buried in his closet. He'd finished it months ago and hidden it right after. If Jess knew that he had dedicated two weeks of his life to reading every page of "What to Expect When You're Expecting," he would never hear the end of it. Her teasing words would pummel his manly ego like fists.

The book had detailed the nesting stage, which Mike had no doubt Jess was in now. And if she was nesting, then that meant the time was near. And if the time was near, then…

He could only hope they were prepared enough.

 **oo0oo**

September 24th came and went. The weather got colder. Breezes picked up, and icy cold air brought the leaves swirling down from the trees. The air smelled crisp, like crunchy leaves and autumn.

Jess barely got any sleep those days. Mike felt guilty, so he often would stay up with her just so they could experience the same sleep deprivation. He still had work to face the next morning, but she had managed to secure maternity leave from her job just a few weeks before her due date.

It was late one Monday night when Mike felt something cold press against his hand. Cold and wet. He startled, eyes popping open.

The dark ceiling of their bedroom greeted him. He was splayed out on his side of the bed, the sheets twisted around his ankles. He turned his head, and found Wolf at the side of the bed, whining and nudging at Mike's dangling hand.

His eyes flashed to the bedside clock: 11:47 PM. The numbers glared at him in the dimly-lit room, harsh and red.

It was then he realized Jess was no longer next to him. She'd spent the past few nights pacing the hallway or sitting on the couch, staring at the dark TV, willing sleep to find her. No position seemed to be comfortable enough for her. Last Mike remembered, the two of them had been sitting up in bed talking— that was at least three hours ago. How long ago had he fallen asleep?

Wolf whined again, burying his nose into Mike's cupped palm. The man grunted and sat up at last. He pulled at his t-shirt so it was looser around his neck, and squinted through the open door and down the hall.

A bright light shined from the bathroom, illuminating the opposite wall. He heard the faint clatter of something on the counter, and a hushed expletive.

He rolled himself out of bed, allowing Wolf to lead him the few steps to the bathroom.

Sure enough, Jess was leaning precariously over the counter, standing on her tiptoes with both eyes focused on the mirror. She swiped a mascara brush over one set of eyelashes, then glanced over at him with her brows furrowed.

"Hey," she said.

A tiny, albeit confused, grin played at his lips. "Just what are you doing putting makeup on now? It's almost midnight."

"Yeah, well… I- I gotta look nice if I'm going out soon." Her words barely made it through her gritted teeth. Stiffly she turned back to the mirror and started to apply mascara to her other eye.

As Mike's brain woke up more, he became more aware of his surroundings. One particular object of interest was her phone, sitting on the counter with the timer app open. It was currently displaying a time around seven minutes.

"Je—" He stopped short and froze. "W- wait. Are you— is that— what—?"

The mascara brush had only just touched her eyelashes when it fell out of her hand. The plastic collided with the counter and slid into the wet sink, coming to a stop under the faucet.

She didn't even seem to notice. Her hands now gripped the edge of the counter, face twisted with pain. Mike stumbled forward and wrapped his arms around her.

"Are you in l- labor?" he stammered. The word felt foreign on his tongue. That was stupid, considering he'd read it online and in books for the past several months, and heard it from her doctor about a million times. Yet now that it was real, it was here— it was like a word from a foreign language he'd never heard of.

Her nod was swift, golden strands swinging back and forth as her head moved jerkily. She gestured to her phone, which had just reached eight minutes. "I… w- was counting… minutes be- between contractions. This… is the f- fastest… yet."

"Jesus tacos on roller blades!" Mike paced back and forth in the small space, mind reeling. Wolf stood in the hallway, ears erect as he watched the adults. Mike looked from the dog to her. "How long has this been going on?"

"S- since like, um, seven thirty? I think?"

"Holy shit, Jess! We need to get to the hospital. Where's the bag we packed?" Mike shot out of the bathroom, hopping over Wolf and racing back to their room. He stumbled blindly in the darkness, still too out of it to think of turning on the light. His hands groped around in her closet until they closed on the sought-after bag.

"I didn't want to say a- anything at first," she explained hastily as he returned to the bathroom. "My w- water hasn't even broken yet."

Mike watched as she reached for the mascara again with a trembling hand. "What are you doing?" he demanded.

"I can't go there looking like I just rolled out of bed!" she hissed.

Mike slung an arm over her shoulders and guided her toward the door. "Babe, they won't care how you look. You're giving birth, not going to a pageant. It's not gonna be pretty no matter what."

She shot a vicious scowl at him. "Michael… I only h- have one side of my face done!"

"Jess."

"Mike—"

"Jess! We have to go." He bent down to look in her eyes. "You've got this. It'll be okay. Are you ready?"

Her eyes were enormous, and looked very blue in this lighting. He could read the fear in her eyes as plainly as words on a page.

"I've got you, baby. Come on." He was able to help her all the way to the front door, but their next dilemma arrived in the form of a now very daunting staircase.

She shook her head vigorously. "I- I don't think I'll make it down that staircase."

There was no other way. Mike hefted the bag up his shoulder, then knelt down and scooped her up, carrying her swiftly down the steps bridal style. She was shrieking obscenities the entire way down, but they made it to his car unscathed. Well, _relatively_ unscathed.

He deposited her gently in the passenger seat, and almost tripped over himself getting to the driver's side. His hands were shaking like crazy and felt flimsier than leaves. As he backed out of the driveway, he tried to focus on keeping a firm grip on the wheel. What the fuck was wrong with him? _He_ wasn't the one about to push out a human being.

Mike knew he broke more than one law of traffic driving that night. It was only adrenaline keeping him awake, so any tidbit of logic was absent from his overactive brain. He kept one hand in Jessica's the entire drive and didn't let go.

They were a block away from the hospital when she made a noise that could only be described as a squeak.

He spun to face her, keeping one eye on the road and the other on her. "What? Are you okay?"

"I… I know you just f- finished cleaning the mud out of here, b- but… I might have, um… made another mess." She grinned sheepishly at him. "I think my water just broke."

"Well, we're almost there. Not even a minute away. It's fine," he breathed.

Mike pulled up to the emergency area and left the car idling as he helped her out and inside the building. He gestured wildly at a few nurses. "Hey, hey! My girlfriend… she's in labor…" He collapsed onto the front desk, panting almost as heavily as her. "W- we need a room…"

"Of course, sir. Right away. What's your name?" the receptionist asked, addressing Jess.

Mike answered for her. "Jessica Riley."

"Okay," the receptionist said patiently. She typed furiously on her keyboard. "Let's just see… Jessica, can you tell me your date of birth? Just to be sure we have the right Jessica Riley here. And Marta will get you situated right away." She looked past them, motioning to a nurse nearby.

Mike opened his mouth again, but Jess cut in. "I can… speak for myself… Romeo," she muttered before looking back at the receptionist. "Two-twenty-six-ninety-six."

Marta brought them to a room and ordered Jess to change into a hospital gown. She then glanced at Mike with a teasing grin. "Now, sir, I believe your car is still idling out front?"

"Damn," Mike swore. He ran back down the hallway, dodging doctors, patients, and nurses. Finding a parking space seemed to take ages, but somehow he was back to their room in less than five minutes.

It was already a bit past midnight, Tuesday morning. Mike's hands were clammy as he scrambled to grab his phone from his back pocket.

"I'm gonna call some people," he said as he and a nurse helped her into the bed. "Let them know what's going on."

"You better be back soon," Jess puffed.

"I will," he promised.

The hallway was somehow quieter when he returned to it. He leaned against the wall next to some vending machines, scrolling through his phone until he found the desired contacts.

First was her parents.

"… Michael?" Susan's voice was bleary. "What could you possibly want—"

"Jess is in labor. We're at the hospital," Mike cut in.

Silence. Then "Okay. What is the address? We'll get there as soon as we can."

Mike told them, and the call ended right after, to his immense relief. He scrolled up some more, then paused.

His thumb hovered over "Mike Sr." on the screen. His heart pounded. He settled with sending a quick text to his father.

 _Mike: Hey. Just wanted to let you know my girlfriend is in labor. So I'll be a dad soon_

And sent.

For some reason, the next name his thumb scrolled to was Sam's. He decided to give her a call. She would know how to comfort him, and knock some sense back into his clueless self.

"Sam," he said as soon as she picked up.

"Mike?" She sounded groggy, but awake and aware enough to comprehend a conversation. "What's up? Are you guys okay?"

"Je— she's in labor, Sam," he murmured. "I'm… I'm terrified. What if something goes wrong? Or what if… what if I… what if I fuck up with this kid? Or she doesn't like me?" He ran his hand through his tousled hair, feeling like he could tear handfuls out of his scalp. "Oh god, Sam… I… I'm so scared."

"It's true. You don't know what will happen," Sam admitted. "But… in some effed-up way, we all have some sort of good luck streak going, don't we? I mean, we escaped t- the mountain alive. That's a breed of good luck way beyond fortune cookies. And you know how much Jess loves you. She's a fighter, Mike. She'll power through childbirth like a bull, and if I know anything about you two at all, it's that you're going to have the sweetest daughter in the world. She's going to love you, Mike, just as you'll love her." _Even for half-awake Sam, that speech was still very decent,_ Mike mused.

He relaxed against the wall. He could hear a pained yell leak through the closed door of the delivery room. "Sam… I… thank you. You always know the right thing to say."

"Don't mention it," Sam sighed. "I'm going to call the others, okay? Let them know what's happening. And we will all be in Pittsburgh within a day."

"You don't have to—"

"We said we'd always be there for each other," she interrupted firmly. "We're going to be there whether you want us to be or not. I'll see you in a few hours."

She hung up, and the disconnected tone blared in Mike's ear for a few moments. He shook his head slowly and locked his phone, slipping it back into his pocket as he opened the door to their room. _That Sam sure is something, I'll tell you what…_

Mike had barely settled into his chair at Jessica's bedside when a doctor came striding in, snapping on his blue medical gloves ostentatiously as if he were about to perform a magic act.

"Alright, alright, let's see how you're doing here, Ms."— he paused to check the computer next to the machines— "Jessica. Ms. Jessica."

As he examined her, she gritted her teeth and pressed back against her pillow. Mike's hand practically turned to mush as she squeezed it. He was almost positive every bone in his hand would be broken by the end of this.

"Alright. You're moving along nicely," the doctor announced as he stood up again. "You're already dilated six centimeters. Very soon we can give you an epidural, if you would be interested…"

" _Yes_ ," she panted. "Please. Give me all the drugs, please. Anything and everything."

The doctor grinned. "We'll give you every safe painkiller within reason, Jessica." He slipped off his gloves and began scrolling through the computer again. "Now, it says here you're a few days overdue. With that in mind, I'm thinking you should have your baby in just a few more hours, give or take."

Mike blinked at him, dumbfounded. "Define 'a few.'"

"Four to five hours, six at the most," the doctor said. He squirted some hand sanitizer on his hands and made for the door. "Now, is there anything else I can do for you in the meantime?" At their _no_ s, he left with the assurance he would be back to check on them soon.

Once they were alone in the room with the button to call a nurse in close range, Jess melted back into her pillow. Her breaths were ragged and labored, her chest heaving under the thin blue fabric of the gown.

"Michael… I- I just want this thing out of me. Please," she whimpered.

"She'll be out soon," he soothed. "Just think, in a few hours we'll have a beautiful little baby. It will all be worth it."

"Easy for you to say," she retorted.

Mike reached out with an arm to stroke her loose hair. "Maybe it is, but… I know how strong you are Jess. You're the most confidant woman I know."

She wiped sweat from her forehead. "Not anymore. I used to be, b- but not now."

"You are confident to me. You always will be my confident, gorgeous, extraordinary Jess. I wouldn't have it any other way." He leaned in close and gave her a peck on the lips. There was a fizz of surprise in his brain when she momentarily deepened the kiss. Then their connection was severed by another sharp cry.

"Augh… fuck nuggets, this hurts," she mumbled.

"Aw. You used my favorite catchphrase," Mike grinned.

"And let's hope your 'favorite catchphrase' won't be our daughter's first two words."

Her parents arrived a half-hour later, and the epidural came soon after that. Things were progressing nicely, as the doctor repeatedly assured them.

With the pain medicine in her system, Jess became very relaxed. She sat dazed in the bed, numb to the contractions rippling through her body.

Mike had just returned from talking with her parents out in the waiting room and retrieving a cup of ice chips. Jess crunched through the ice idly, her hand enclosed in Mike's and her eyes blinking mildly up at him.

"Y'know…" she mumbled. "Soon it won't be just us anymore. Like… it's been you and me, Mike, for ages. I can't… I can't believe it."

"Yeah, but it's 'just us' for almost seven years! It'll be a big change, but I think we'll adjust just fine." He leaned down to peck her damp forehead. Locks of hair were plastered to her skin from sweat after the turmoil earlier. Right then, she couldn't look any more peaceful. And even with her bedraggled appearance, she couldn't be any more beautiful.

Her sigh was almost inaudible. She turned the Styrofoam cup of ice in her hand, averting her eyes for a moment. "I know, it's just… it's like nothing has ever gone as planned for us. Not since…" Her voice stopped short, as if her words had run into a barrier.

"We can't let that night define our lives, Jess. And we _won't_ let it. What we can thank that night for is our lives and our relationship. But we don't owe it anything, not anymore. Our group is together again. We're alive, and we're _thriving_. Chris and Ash are married, Sam and Josh are finally together, Em and Beth just got big promotions in their jobs, and you and I starting a family together. That night is so far in the past now, it's like a pinpoint of darkness among all the… all the _light_ in our lives together." Mike guided both her hands over to his and let his eyes form an invisible yet unbreakable bond with hers. "Barely anything has gone as planned, that's true. And when has life ever honored our plans? This entire journey, from the very beginning, was unexpected. Unexpected and so, so welcome. We're gonna be parents, something we'd never really imagined before. To hell with plans! This is happening right now, and I- I can't even begin to explain how deeply in love I am with you right now."

Mike didn't notice the tears dripping from his eyes until he was finished outpouring his emotions. It was a speech comparable to one Sam could make, and he damn near wished somebody had been recording this moment.

"Thank you for staying with me, Michael," she whispered. "I love you more than words can say." There was a pause, then she added, "But this whole me-giving-birth thing? It's not ever happening again."

He opened his mouth, but she lifted a hand to quell his coming objection.

"Never, _ever_. One kid is enough."

Mike nodded, a shaky smile perched on his lips. "Okay," he agreed. It really was fine. They couldn't spread their love too thin among a large family.

At that point, Mike felt there was only thing incomplete between them. But he planned to fix that soon.

 **New York**

After Sam's call reached everyone in the group, it was like a mad rush towards Pittsburgh. Emily had been instructed to deliver the news to Matt, and grudgingly she had agreed to the task.

She hadn't seen him since June. From the moment they got off the plane to when he left the apartment carrying two boxes of his belongings, few words were exchanged between them.

Honestly speaking, Emily had no idea where her ex-boyfriend was. It didn't help that everyone in the group still thought they were together. Every Skype call Emily had participated in was punctuated with her excuses for why Matt wasn't present.

 _"Oh, he has a new job. It's keeping him busy."_

 _"He has a zit on his nose, he was too embarrassed to show himself."_

 _"He ran out to the store like five minutes ago, you just missed him…"_

To say Emily missed Matt was an understatement. The apartment was like a ghost town without that dork around. The bathroom and bedroom were both oddly clean. Not a single dirty dish sat in the sink anymore. No more toenail clippings were clumped by the shower drain. Hell, even the slight dip in his side of the mattress had perked up somewhat. Emily now lay in the center of the empty bed, arms and legs spread out like she was some sort of depressed starfish.

Jess and Mike's kid just _had_ to choose the middle of the night to be born. It figures she would opt for the inconvenient route; already she took after her mother, and she wasn't even born yet.

Emily gazed at the ceiling, watching the shadows shift, slicing through strips of light from traffic twenty floors below. Slowly, she picked up her phone again, swiping away from Sam's contact and scrolling down to Matt. She'd never been the type of girl who slapped on a million heart emojis next to her S.O.'s name, but for him she had a single red heart. Three months ago, she had hit the backspace on that heart at an immeasurable speed.

With a sigh, she pressed the green call button under his name and waited. And waited. And waited.

"This number is out of service. Call your provider for more details," a robotic female voice crackled into her ear.

She sat up suddenly, kicking the sheets away from her legs. She blindly grabbed a pair of jeans and a blouse from her closet, sliding into them as she went to run a brush through her hair and apply the bare minimum of makeup.

Her heart beat fast in her chest. What the hell? Why was his phone number deactivated? The first thought that struck her was he was homeless on the streets. If he hadn't been able to pay his entire phone bill when they lived together, how could he possibly scrounge up the money being on his own on a cold bench in Central Park?

Emily's heart continued to pound as she pictured all of the homeless people she'd seen during her many years in this city. Curled on benches, shivering under patchy blankets, holding up cardboard signs marked with bleeding black marker, thrusting nearly-empty containers of coins into the crowd, begging for charity.

She couldn't imagine Matt as one of those people. What if she'd walked by him at some point in the past three months, and not even recognized him? For all she knew, he could have a grizzled beard and sunken eyes by now— completely unrecognizable.

Then an idea hit her. She returned to her phone as she marched into the kitchen to grab a snack before leaving. She went through her call history until she came upon the only recent unknown number from almost a week ago now. At the time, she had ignored the call, but later on she looked the number up out of curiosity. It was the number of the Metropolitan Correctional Center.

Now she had a sinking feeling of why she had been called by that place.

She dialed up the number and was almost immediately greeted by a tired sounding man.

"Hello, my name is Emily Davis. I was called about a week ago, but I hung up because I didn't recognize the number. Is there a reason you tried to contact me…?"

She heard a few clicks from a computer mouse in the background, then a grunt that sounded positive enough. "Ah, yes, Ms. Davis. We were seeking next of kin for Matthew Taylor."

Her heart sunk even lower. What had he done? "Um, yes, that's me. Well, I'm not a relative— I'm his… ex-girlfriend. But that's beside the point."

The man sounded about as thrilled by that news as anyone would be by a bag of rocks. He went on with trudging words. "Mr. Taylor was brought in here on the nineteenth for… oh, this is a good one. He broke into a parked car on 31st street while severely impaired by alcohol."

"Oh no," she croaked.

"Don't worry, he didn't get far," the man droned. "He hit the gas pedal and rear-ended the parked vehicle in front of him. There was a person inside that other car, so the cops got on the scene pretty quickly. He let us into his phone and the first person he wanted us to call was you."

Emily leaned against the wall next to the front door, her eyes huge. She could only hope the person Matt had hit wasn't vengeful enough to call for additional charges against him. It didn't help that Matt already had a criminal record for that DUI from three years ago. That had definitely been an eventual night, and it was not something she wanted to think about right then.

"Alright, well, is he able to be, um, bailed out?" she mumbled into the phone.

"Yeah," the man answered. "He's been here a little over a week, served his time. He claims you're the only one he has. He's quite annoying, actually. Keeps trying to chat up all the other prisoners about the stupidest things. Friendly, but still a bother to most of us."

Emily suppressed a smile at that mental image. "How much is bail?"

"Three thousand, roughly."

She paused in front of the elevator after pressing the button. She checked to make sure the hallway was completely empty, then hissed " _What_?" into the device.

"He actually caused a lil' bit of a chain reaction. The car he hit ran into another parked car. The vehicle sandwiched in the middle was totaled, I believe. Wasn't even turned on, and it was scrunched up like an accordion. Miracle the person inside wasn't injured. And, of course, there's damages to the car he vandalized and the third vehicle." She could practically hear the man's careless shrug. "He attempted to drive while under the influence of alcohol. That's a crime, Ms. Davis. There will be a trial at some point in the future."

"Y- yeah, I- I'm… aware. I understand," she stammered. "I'll be there in a few minutes." Then she hung up.

The taxi ride over to the prison seemed to take ages. It was almost one-thirty in the morning, and yet Emily was wide awake. It wasn't like she had pulled all-nighters before for work, anyway. This was no big deal at all.

When she finally reunited with Matt, it wasn't the way she expected their first meeting since June to be. He was huddled in the corner of a jail cell, wearing a scuffed-up white t-shirt and gray sweatpants. When the heavy iron bars groaned and yielded to an officer's shove, Emily immediately stepped through and went right up to him.

"What the fuck, Matthew?" she snapped.

Nearby prisoners— most of whom seemed more like temporary residents who had gone a little too wild while partying— glanced up at her exclamation.

Matt's head shot up, and she was captured by those brown eyes, warmer than hot coals. Just looking into his toasty gaze was like a cuddly hug— and seconds later, he stood up and gave her one of those bear hugs that she'd so desperately missed.

They were the same height when she had her heeled boots on, but he still picked her up anyway. She let him spin her around once before wriggling out of his grasp.

"Matt," she said firmly. "I'm bailing you out of here. It doesn't mean I'm not still pissed at you, though."

The officer escorted them out to the front, where Matt was given his phone back as well as a couple other small possessions. Emily whipped her checkbook out of her purse and drew up the correct amount. She didn't talk to him again until they were out of the building and heading toward a parking garage. Emily did own a car, but it was a high-end brand, so she only used it when absolutely necessary. There was no point in taking her Infiniti Q50 out into city traffic just to grab something from the store. It was always a pain to park on the streets, anyway.

They entered the garage and at last she spoke.

"What the hell were you thinking? I can't believe you just made me almost broke. For once, I wish your sister didn't have to live in Australia. Why couldn't she have stayed here?"

Matt shrugged. "Larissa is one of those people who calls herself a 'free spirit.' Apparently she can only be at her freest on a different continent."

Emily unlocked the car, and they slid into the seats. She started the engine and they were off.

"Em, where are we… where are we going?"

"Pittsburgh," she told him tartly.

"Why?"

Emily gripped the steering wheel as she guided the slate-gray car through a narrow street. "Why do you think? Jess is in labor right now."

Matt pressed back into the seat. "Right now?"

"Yes. The whole group is on its way there right now. I imagine we'll be the first ones there, if Sam doesn't beat us." She stopped at a red light and glanced at him, brow furrowed. "Matt, I… listen. It was probably a bit… unwise of me to kick you out the second we got home from California."

"No, you had every right to," he argued gently. "What I did is inexcusable. Though… if it makes you feel better… Han— she and I haven't talked since then."

"Well." Emily huffed. "Good."

"But we were both drunk," he went on. "We're not interested in each other, Em. I promise. You know Mike has always been the one she likes. And you know she's been dating that Lucas guy for almost a month now, right? She's across the country—"

Emily scowled at the green light as the car passed under it. "She'll be in the same room as you later today."

"Yeah, but—"

"Matt, I'm not in the mood to hear it, okay? I understand. I'm fine now. The problem is, I am only running on one energy bar that I choked down before leaving the apartment, so if I have too many distractions while driving, this car just might end up in a ditch."

Matt didn't reply for a few minutes. Then he mumbled, "I found a place. It's… it's small, and it smells like cat piss. But it's mine."

"Nice."

"And I'm working at a sub shop. I'm actually pretty decent at making sandwiches." He crossed his arms over his thin t-shirt. "Turns out all those stupid lessons about ratio in math class actually mattered. One slice of cheese per two slices of meat is my boss's life code."

Emily hummed in amusement.

"But… I guess I might not have that job anymore, if I haven't showed up for a week." Matt massaged his temples, hands scraping against stubble rougher than pavement.

"You'll be okay," Emily assured him suddenly. She spared him another brief glance, then flicked her gaze back to the road. "I'll help you get back on your feet, Matt. I'm your friend. Don't ever forget that I'm here for you."

Matt grinned wanly. "Thanks, Em. I… I really appreciate it. Oh, and happy birthday!" He chuckled. "This just might be your most interesting birthday yet, huh?"

Emily's jaw dropped. She had totally forgotten it was her birthday. She let a small laugh leak past her lips. "Yeah," she said. "I think this will be an interesting birthday."

She wasn't sure what was next for her and Matt's relationship. But long ago, Emily realized that holding grudges didn't do any good for anyone. She just served as a bridesmaid for the girl who once encouraged her to be shot. She rediscovered friendship with the girl who stole her boyfriend's heart. And, now, Emily was willing to pick up the pieces of her and Matt's shaky Jenga tower of a romance.

Forgiveness always trumped vengeance. That was now a secure fact in Emily's mind and heart.

 **Pittsburgh**

If someone had told Mike a year ago that he was going to be a father, he would've laughed at them.

If that same someone had told him he would be the one to deliver his child, he would've guffawed them out of the room.

Mike was riding on such a high in that hospital room at five in the morning that if somebody told him unicorns existed and Benjamin Franklin was back from the dead, he would believe them word for word.

He slipped on the blue medical gloves and strapped on a cough guard over the lower half of his face. The doctor's grin showed through the sheer material of his cough guard as he positioned Mike's hands under the head of the baby.

"You're almost there! Just another big one! I know you have it in you, Jessica," the doctor called to her.

She groaned— the pain meds were just starting to wear off— and, seconds later, the baby slipped into Mike's hands.

"Oh my god," Mike choked. His vision blurred as he lifted his newborn daughter closer to his chest. "Oh my god!"

"Here, bring her to her mother," the doctor urged gently. He guided the stunned younger man to Jessica's bedside. She looked absolutely drained, yet the excited light in her eyes betrayed the rest of her body language.

The baby wailed, but her cries softened as Mike laid her on Jessica's bare chest. Mike collapsed into the chair, watching as they made their first skin-to-skin contact. The doctor stood back, a broad smile engulfing his face.

"Congratulations, you two. A healthy baby girl." He worked nimbly and efficiently as he cut the umbilical cord. He left with the assurance that everything was perfectly fine with their daughter.

Mike scooted as close to the bed as he could, stroking the newborn's head. A few wisps of dark hair were slicked back, and already her eyes were open. Ten fingers and ten toes wriggled from her minuscule hands and feet. _Lucky girl_ , Mike thought in amusement. _Ten fingers, unlike her papa._ His smile grew as he spoke out loud.

"You did it, Jess. You did it! And you were wonderful and amazing and—"

"Michael." She smiled weakly. "I feel like I got hit by a truck."

He pressed a soft kiss to her temple. "And still you couldn't be any more beautiful."

By the time their child was a couple hours old, she had been weighed, measured, and wrapped in a pink blanket and cap. Mike was able to slip out of the room to break the news to her family. Nurses and various members of the Riley clan shuffled back and forth from the room. Susan displayed the most genuine smile Mike had ever seen from her in ages.

"So? Are you two finally telling us what her name is?" Phil asked.

Mike glanced down at the baby cradled in his arms. She was on the small side— six pounds, twelve ounces and twenty-one inches— and she felt so fragile in his arms. It was as if she was made of glass and paper. And, all things considered, she basically was. Mike cuddled her closer to his chest and further away from the cold linoleum floor.

Jess looked over at him. A dusting of pink colored her cheeks as she beamed. "Mike? Do you want to tell them or should I?"

The baby's eyes suddenly shot wide open. They were a brilliant gray-blue, a carbon copy of her mother's. She began to fuss a little, so Mike shifted her over to Jess.

"Okay," he began. "Her name is… Ella Riley Munroe."

"Oh!" Susan sat up. "So you hyphenated her last name?"

Jess shook her head. "Nah. We just thought Riley could serve as a good middle name too."

Susan exchanged a good-natured eye roll with her husband. "Figures," she laughed. "But it's a wonderful name."

The group trickled in at record time. It took Mike a while to convince the nurses to allow such a large number of people to crowd inside the tiny room. They only relented when he promised it wouldn't cause any disturbance to the other patients.

Later, of course, Mike knew how idiotic of him it was to assume mischief wouldn't be following a certain somebody wherever he went.

The last one to bustle in was, naturally, was the aforementioned Josh. He pranced into the room holding what looked like a pack of cigars. He held them high in the air triumphantly, as if they were a trophy.

"Look what I've got for the new daddy! Light 'em up!" Josh cheered as he passed a cigar to a bemused Mike.

A nurse leaned into the room, eyebrows slanted sternly. "Sir, smoking is not permitted on the hospital grounds—"

Josh spun around. "Oh, they're not real." He waved the pack cheerfully. "Just chocolate."

The nurse frowned, still lingering in the doorway.

With a patient sigh, Josh tilted the box, revealing three more cigars. They were wrapped in pink paper and only then did they strike Mike as fake. His friend showed them to the nurse, who only gave a slight shake of her head before walking on down the hallway, grumbling.

Wearing a wide grin, Josh handed out the remaining cigars to Chris and Matt while keeping one for himself. Beth placed her hands on her hips, scowling at her brother.

"No cigars for the ladies, Joshua? Whatever happened to crushing gender roles, hm?"

"Well, if you insist…" Josh leaned forward, plucking one of the cigars out of Chris's mouth and placing it in Beth's outstretched hand. "There you go."

Chris shot him a glare that was more playful than accusatory. "What's the big idea, bro?"

Josh snorted. "You're a married man now, Cochise," he said as he gestured to the gold band on Chris's finger. "There's a lot more you can get in life besides a chocolate cigar. If you know what I mean." He wiggled his eyebrows, which elicited a groan from Chris and an eye roll from Ashley.

A corner of Beth's mouth quirked as she returned the cigar to its original owner, who reclaimed it gratefully. "Here, Chris. It's all yours."

That entire time, Sam, Hannah and Emily were doting on Jess and Ella. As everyone else clustered around the bed and took their turns holding the baby, Mike glanced around the group.

"She's beautiful, Jess," Sam murmured as she took her turn. "She has your eyes."

Josh leaned over Sam's shoulder, a half-eaten cigar hanging perilously from his lower lip. "She really is cute. Not all that red and wrinkly." He briefly lifted his eyes to send Mike a teasing stare. "Let's just hope she hasn't inherited her dad's temper."

"Funny, Josh."

Hannah and Beth were quiet and subdued during their turns holding Ella. Beth looked fascinated more than anything, while Hannah looked ready to sink into the floor— whether in a good way or a bad way, Mike wasn't sure.

When the baby was passed to Ashley, Chris leaned against her arm. Both looked awestruck, as if they were looking at a miracle of nature. Though, honestly, she was.

"Was it bad?" Ashley asked suddenly, lifting her head to look questioningly at Jess. "Was giving birth painful?"

Jess shrugged. "Yeah. At first it was. But in the end, it's worth every minute."

Chris placed his index finger in the palm of Ella's tiny hand. The infant squirmed, and curled her fingers around his much larger one. He startled, then relaxed, a toothless grin gracing his features.

Ashley returned her attention to the pink bundle, brushing a lock of auburn hair behind one ear. "Okay," she breathed. "Good. Because…" Then she trailed off.

"Oh. My. God." Jess sat up abruptly in the bed, barely taking the time to wince. "Are you?" Ashley gave a small nod, apparently able to decipher Jessica's secret code of squeals and incomplete questions. "Are you really?"

"Yeah," Ash said shyly. "It's still early on, but… yeah."

The room filled again with an assortment of squeals, exclamations and congratulations. It took Mike close to a full minute to realize Ashley was pregnant. He leaned over the bed to give Chris a hearty pat on the shoulder. The father-to-be also received a slap on the back from Josh. The pained expression on Chris's face made Mike wonder whether he would need to be admitted as a patient too.

The noise died down quickly— a process which was aided by a nasty glare from the same anti-chocolate-cigar nurse— and Ashley waved them away. "Thanks, you guys. But it's Jess and Mike's time to shine. _Isn't that right?_ " She lifted her voice for the last few words, directing them at Ella. The baby's only reply was a yawn and a gurgle.

The room was mostly cleared out during Emily's turn. Only Mike, Jess, Matt, and Em were left, all their attention focused on the newborn.

"I can't believe how adorable she is," Emily said softly as she stroked Ella's cheek.

"Em…"

"And you know what? It's totally okay you didn't name your firstborn after me," Emily continued. She fixed her gaze onto Jessica's. "After all, Ella and I will always share the same birthday."

For the second time, Jess shot upright in the bed and barely winced that time. She took a hold of Emily's arm with a gasp. "Oh, crap, Em, I completely forgot. I'm so sorry! We'll celebrate it later, I promise—"

Emily chuckled. "It's okay, don't worry about it. You've been a little busy today."

"Yeah," Mike said. "Just a little bit."

"Please tell me you've improved your sarcasm detector by now, Munroe." Emily's tone took a sharp turn as she faced him. "It's been six years. Take some lessons or something."

Mike groaned. "Em. I got your sarcasm there. Couldn't you tell I was being sarcastic right back?"

"Yeah, but you could also fix up that tone of yours a little. You can't call it 'sarcasm' if it doesn't even—"

Jess and Matt smirked at each other before she broke into the argument.

"Alright, alright, you two! You're fighting just like siblings _again_." Jess nodded at Mike. "Reason number five why Ella won't have any siblings."

"Yeah," Mike muttered. "No promises on that one."

"Michael!"

Matt piped up finally, jerking his head at Mike. "No offense, man, but you look like you got hit by a truck."

Mike gazed down at himself for the first time in hours. He was still wearing the plain short-sleeved t-shirt he'd been sleeping in. The white fabric now had a few streaks of blood and who-knows-what-else on it. The jeans he'd yanked on before leaving the house also didn't look their cleanest. And it didn't take a mirror to know that his hair was probably sticking out at random angles. And on top of that, he likely had a significant five o'clock shadow. And by five o'clock, he meant five in the morning.

Jess laughed at the arbitrary insult. "Yeah, he does. But he's still the handsomest guy I know."

"Thanks, Matt," Mike said. "You're a real pal."

A few more minutes passed, as the sun rose higher in the sky and glared through the window. It was almost two in the afternoon now. Emily returned the sleeping Ella to her mother, then stood up along with Matt.

"We were thinking of grabbing lunch before checking into the hotel," Emily said. "Meet back up with everyone else."

"Unless you want us to just grab something from the cafeteria here," Matt supplied quickly.

Mike shrugged. "Do whatever you want. We still really appreciate you all coming here on a whim like this."

"Oh, and before you go?" Jess spoke up as Emily and Matt went for the door. "Mike and I were talking, and… we've decided we want you two to be Ella's godparents."

Both stood frozen like statues in the doorway.

"If you want to, of course," Mike added.

The smile appeared first on Matt's face. He slid his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants and nodded. "I'm on board with that. Totally. Thanks!"

Emily visibly gulped. Her eyes were fixed solely on Jessica. Then she grinned. "Yeah, that would be… great. Thank you so much!"

Without warning, she ran back to Jessica's bedside and engulfed her in a hug. Mike had never seen his ex do anything so… touchy. Emily was one of the few people he knew who would cringe during the entirety of a hug.

And yet with Jess, she was so natural. The two friends melted into each other, Jess sitting up so she could better wrap her arms behind Emily's back.

When they finally parted, Emily was sniffling. Emily, _crying_? Mike leaned in for a closer look. Okay, well, it was more like a dry sob, but that was still something for the Emily Davis Record Books.

Late that evening, they were cleared to go home. Mike went around the room, gathering up all the small gifts they had received from her family. The group was staying at a hotel, but a few— namely, Emily and Beth— could only stay for one night due to their jobs. Mike still marveled at their friends' fierce loyalty. It had taken a near-death experience to shake some sense into everyone, but now Mike was glad as ever that they understood each other better now.

Yet there was a pang of sadness somewhere in Mike's heart. Of all the visitors he and Jess had gotten today, there was still someone missing. He pulled out his phone for the hundredth time, tapping his way to the messages app.

Nothing new from his father.

"What's up?" Jess asked. She was propping herself up in the bed, steeling herself for taking the couple of steps to the wheelchair. "You look sad."

"Nah, it's nothing."

She gave him a sharp look, and Mike knew better than to deny her any further information.

"Just… my dad." Mike scratched behind his head, heaving the bag up on his shoulder. "I texted him earlier and… nada."

"Oh." She frowned. "Um… maybe his number changed?"

He moved over to her bed, helping her into the wheelchair and placing the baby in her arms. "Really, it's fine. I'm the happiest here with my two favorite girls," Mike assured her. He heard Jess give a slight hum of disagreement, so he pressed on. "Look, life isn't a magical fairytale where everything is fixed by the end. We're not in some storybook romance. Not every loose string is gonna be tied up. My dad will just have to be… one of those loose strings for now."

"But—"

"Jess. Baby. Don't worry about it."

Mike bent down to grab a fallen greeting card. As he swiped it into one hand, he heard a clunk from behind him. He didn't need to turn around in order for the realization to hit him.

Her words came out low and breathy. "Oh my god. Michael. Is— is that…?"

Mike was suddenly painfully aware of the nurses in the room and the hallway. Gradually, he turned around and his worst suspicions were confirmed.

A diamond ring sat on the floor, its flawlessness contrasting harshly against the stark white linoleum. It had broken all the laws of gravity and fallen out of his pocket. Mike scooped up the ring in his hand and sighed. "Damn. I almost forgot." He held the ring out to her lamely. "Here you go."

"Here you _go_?" she demanded. Ella stirred slightly, so Jess lowered her voice a few decibels. "What is that supposed to mean? Is that your way of reinforcing the 'no cliche fairy tale ending'?"

He chuckled at her irreverence— or, rather, _his_ irreverence. Without much more hesitation, Mike let one knee crash against the cold floor, holding out the engagement ring to her with his good hand.

"Jessica Riley. You're my love, my world, my everything. You have given me the two best things any guy could want: yourself and a beautiful daughter. The only other thing I can possibly wish for is to have you as my wife. Marry me?"

Her stunning face glowed with enthusiasm. There was no other woman who could give birth and still look like a model who had just come from the runway all in one day.

"Duh," she answered. "Of _course_ I will!"

Mike slid forward and slipped the ring onto her finger. As all the present hospital staff clapped in the background, she pulled him close and pressed her lips against his. When they separated, Ella was awake again, her wide blue eyes going back and forth from one parent to the other.

"And they all lived," Mike whispered as he planted a light kiss onto the baby's forehead. "Happily ever after."

* * *

 **Okayyyyy so this is the longest chapter I have _ever_ written? That explains why this took almost a month for me to write, so I apologize for the ridiculous wait. I really wanted to take the time to get this chapter just right - it still ended up really sappy and fluffy, but I guess that's what I always wanted in the first place!**

 **This is the final chapter of the actual story. There will be an epilogue coming within the next month, though I do not expect it to be as long as this insane chapter. And, the sad truth is, I think this will be my final contribution to the Until Dawn fandom. This game will forever hold a special place in my heart, but it won't, and _can't_ , stay popular forever. One year or maybe even six months from now, this fandom will be almost completely dead. I've found there's no point denying the inevitable. I am already deeply invested in another fandom, and have an ongoing story for it that has taken up a lot of my time this past month as well. As much as it sucks, everyone has to move on at some point. And so, after the epilogue of UWMA, that will be my official departure as a writer for this fandom. Thank you all so much for reading, commenting, and favoriting. I could never explain how much your support has meant to be during these last nine months. This fandom has given me so many awesome friends and introduced me to countless talented people. I hope that, even when this fandom is basically extinct, we'll all still take time to remember the fun we had here! I love you all.**

 **-E**


	42. Follow

**Ten Years Later - Seattle**

"Mrs. Washington, you have a call on line four."

Beth glanced up from her desk, standing up slightly as she zeroed in on the employee who'd called her.

"For the last time, Wyatt, it's Mrs. Washington-Breslow. Mrs. Washington is my mother," she told him before sitting back down. Her index finger glided over the tablet's polished screen, hitting an endless train of buttons until she came upon the call on line four. An app for FaceTime opened up.

"Who is it— oh. Hey Sam," Beth grinned stiffly. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind one ear, hoping against hope that she didn't look too stressed or otherwise moody. "What's up?"

"You sound tired." Sam greeted her with a frown, her forehead crinkled up like tissue paper. "Should I call back some other time?"

Beth waved her hand, shooing away her friend's worry as if it were just a fly. "No, I'm fine. I can talk. What is it?"

A look of guilt flashed over Sam's face, then disappeared, then lingered. It made Beth squirm in her seat. With a soft sigh, Sam lowered her head, then glanced up again with a sheepish smile. "Would you mind watching the kids for a couple hours tomorrow? I have to appear at the courthouse for the first custody hearing—"

Beth nodded curtly, cutting her off. "Yep. My schedule's clear."

"Thanks so much! You're a lifesaver." Sam paused then, the lines of concern still apparent between her furrowed eyebrows. Time had been futile in whittling away at her appearance; even in her mid-thirties, Sam was still gorgeous. There was, if anything, maybe a few new wrinkles carved just above her cheekbones and under her eyes. Whether they were from laughing or from stress, Beth couldn't be sure.

"What?" Beth asked flatly, eyes already drifting to a website open on another tab.

"Beth… look, I know this is awkward, okay? Trust me, I didn't go into this thinking everything would go smoothly—"

"What about 'divorce' screams _smooth_ to you?" Beth hissed. The two fell silent, both equally appalled by her outburst. Beth dragged a deep breath through her lungs. Well, she'd already muddied the waters by letting that thought escape. What was another few thoughts?

"Divorces are never easy, Sam. No shit they aren't. And I just… I don't know. When are you going to tell the twins? Are you going to wait a month until Christmas? Will their big present be 'oh, guess what kids, Mommy and Daddy are getting a big fat divorce!'" Her voice warped suddenly as frustration washed over her in the form of a cold sweat. Whatever was stinging at her eyes was most certainly _not_ tears. No way in hell.

"Sam… god, th- they're only three years old… I'm just… I'm worried for them," she finished quietly.

There was a single tear sliding down Sam's cheek. The apologetic smile didn't reach her eyes. "I know, Beth. I'm sorry. I didn't want things to end this way between Josh and I. I wouldn't have married him if I knew it would end like this."

Beth let her mind wander for a few long seconds, back to the breezy October day six years ago when Sam became her sister-in-law. She had looked so breathtaking when walking down the aisle, like the human version of a sunset over the beach. The blonde tresses just reaching her shoulders, the sparkle of eyeshadow peeking out from behind her curled lashes. The shy smile that traced her lips, white as the simple lace gown that hugged her slim shape. And Josh, Beth's brother, standing tall at the altar in a stupid white tux, his eyes green like dew drops when they landed on his bride.

All for nothing.

"I know I'm being unfair to you, Sam. I'm sorry," Beth breathed finally as the hazy memory faded from view. "But it's so hard for me to be your supportive friend when the guy you're divorcing is my brother too. I feel like I'm being yanked back and forth between the sides. And I just don't want it to be like that for the kids."

The pain in Sam's gaze was glossed over with a thin layer of determination. "It won't be. I'll make sure of it," she said.

 **San Francisco**

Ashley flipped open the book to the title page, a friendly grin painted onto her tired face.

"Who should I make this out to?"

"My grandson, Owen," the older lady on the other side of the table told her. "He's such a huge fan of your books, so I thought this would be the perfect birthday gift for him."

Ashley's smile grew wider, and became the tiniest bit more genuine. "Owen, huh? That's the name of my son, too. Well, my oldest." She leaned over the novel, scribbling in the familiar name just under the title _Borne of Shadow_.

The lady clasped her hands, rings clinking together like keys on a xylophone. "Isn't that something! How old is your Owen?"

"He'll be ten next May," Ashley replied. She moved her pen along the page, writing in the same semi-sincere message she'd penned during countless other book signings. "And I'm guessing your grandson is a little older if he's reading my work?"

A laugh worked its way out from between the lady's wrinkled red lips. "Ha, yes. He's turning twenty-two." There was a moment of silence as Ashley finished adding her name under the brief paragraph, giving the ink a second to dry before handing the closed book back to the woman.

"You know, it's really refreshing to see at least one person from a younger generation still willingly reading paper books," Ashley said. Her smile felt the realest it had in ages. "I feel like almost every author has given in to exclusively-online promotions these days."

The lady nodded grimly. "I feel the same way. That's why I introduced Owen to your books. He always hated reading in school until I showed your work to him. Now he's devouring at least three books a week!"

Something fuzzy seemed to take hold of Ashley's heart. She rested her chin on one hand, playing idly with the pen in her other. "Thank you so much," she said warmly. "You've really made my day."

"Of course," the stranger responded. She placed a gentle couple pats on Ashley's shoulder. The last thing she said before leaving was "Don't ever stop writing. You just might be the only one left who's slowing the transition to all that online gibber-jabber."

The book shop seemed much quieter once she was gone. Ashley shuffled through the papers on the table, organized her pens by color, then by size, then by type. She then began to flip through the pages of her latest and fifth release— _Borne of Shadow_ — until she stumbled upon the inside back cover.

There was a headshot of her that was now at least two or three years old. She crouched on one side in the grayscale grass, wavy hair trailing past one shoulder as one hand rested on the wizened gray and white Husky lounging in front of her.

The bio underneath the picture was "short and sweet," just as her publisher had requested for it to be.

 _Ashley B. Hartley is the author of more than three critically-acclaimed books, all of which are part of her Borne Of series. In 2023, she won the Pulitzer Prize for her very first novel, Borne of Darkness. She lives in San Francisco, California, with her husband, three children, and their dog Storm. You can find her at ashbhartleybooks dot com._

She still couldn't believe that she ended up here. It was where she always wanted to be. Even so, sometimes she wondered if that trauma was the only reason she had gotten here. That night inspired this entire series of books. When she voiced that concern to Chris, he argued against it, saying that her own creative mind brought her here.

She could only hope he was correct.

At the end of the day, she was sitting in the book store's café with her laptop open. A small plate sat to her right, covered with a dusting of crumbs from the pastry she'd eaten hours ago. The shallow cup next to that was filled with just the cold dregs of peppermint tea, a forgotten final sip.

Outside, the street was dim and lit only by flickering streetlights. Ashley loved this peace and quiet just past eight o'clock. Every Thursday, this café was her sanctuary. The only noises she heard were the occasional hushed murmurs exchanged between customer and waiter, the gentle clinking of glass against the counter or a tray, and the clunk of sturdy book spines or tablets against the tables.

Every now and then, the relative silence was disturbed by a jingle from the front door's bell. So, when Ashley heard the bell again, she didn't think anything of it. She remained glued to her computer screen, fighting off a bout of writer's block as the blank white page stared back at her, intimidating as ever. The cursor's continuous blinking almost seemed like a taunt—

"Ash."

She glanced up, and there was her husband. Both she and Chris had aged fairly well in the past decade, especially considering they had three energetic children under their wing.

"Oh. Hey." She pushed back her chair slightly, the legs scraping way too loudly against the floor. Ashley fixed her puzzled gaze on him, then she took in the other three people who had followed him in like obedient ducklings. "What's up?"

Chris had rarely looked so despondent in the past years. The worst she'd seen him was when his computer crashed or when one of the kids fell and scraped their knee.

"It's Storm. I… I think she's at the last straw." He lowered his voice and leaned closer to her. "She was coughing up more blood."

Ashley immediately rose to her feet, slamming her laptop shut and shoving it in her bag. She picked up her phone, which had been face-down on the table, and scrolled through the flood of texts and calls she'd missed. "Crap. I'm sorry, I wasn't checking my phone—"

"Don't worry 'bout it. But we need to get home before she…" Chris trailed off, frowning as he looked at the trio of tired kids. "Before she, um, leaves."

At only eleven years old, Storm had suffered gastrointestinal bleeding. The veterinarian had performed surgery, but in the end declared it a lost cause and gave the dog a few months to live. That had only been last week.

"Can I ride with Mom?"

Both Chris and Ashley froze. She was splitting up from them to go to her car, which was parked just down the block from his. The insistent reminder of Storm back home came to her and, with a sigh, she nodded and grabbed their middle child's hand. "Sure, Alex. You can come with me."

Seven-year-old Elliot Alexander Hartley was as intelligent as second-graders came. At two years old, he had declared his preference for being called by his middle name. Compared to his older brother and younger sister, he had always been closer to his mother despite looking the most like Chris. He had the same steel blue eyes magnified behind a pair of wire-framed glasses. He had the same nose, the same facial structure, the same smile— albeit a bit more gap-toothed than his father's. The only noticeable contrast was the fiery red hair on his head.

His brother Owen Nicholas also inherited Ashley's red hair, plus her green eyes. He kept his mane of hair longer than Alex's, and as a result it always stuck up in tufts. Personality-wise, he did not at all take after either of his parents. He was an all-star goalie on the school soccer team, and always had a slight tan from being outdoors all day. Ashley hadn't even realized anyone in their families _could_ tan until he came around.

The final addition to their clan, Genevieve Violet, had been long-awaited. Despite not being spaced as evenly as her brothers age-wise— she was only turning four next month— she had no problem marching up to Owen or Alex and giving them a piece of her mind. Gennie possessed the indomitable spirit that lived inside both of her parents. She had gotten beautiful strawberry blonde hair and her mom's eyes.

Once Ashley had Alex buckled into his car seat, she set off behind Chris's SUV, her hands shaking as she tried to keep a firm grip on the wheel.

"Mommy?" Alex asked.

"Yeah?"

"Is Storm gonna die?"

He asked the question point-blank, as if they were discussing the weather or any other less morbid subject. Ashley felt her heart sink down into her stomach, which was already churning at the thought of what they were to face back home.

She wondered what she would say if Owen or Gennie asked that question. Then she pondered her response for Alex, who was such a different kid from his siblings. Exhaling quietly, Ashley nodded while giving a sniffle.

"Yes, sweetie. I'm— I'm afraid so."

She didn't at all expect what was coming next. "Death is weird," Alex mumbled. "It's not fair. Why does the world have to take things away from us?"

It was odd, hearing such a sophisticated question disguised by simpler words and an undeniably adorable little kid lisp.

She had no idea what she could possibly tell him. So, instead, she settled with "I don't know, honey."

When they got back home, Gennie was already fast asleep in her car seat. Alex was showing signs of sleepiness, but he refused to give in. Owen was the widest awake, being used to a later bedtime than the younger ones. Ashley felt a pang hit her already aching heart. He would have the hardest time. Although all three of them had been around Storm their entire lives, it was Owen who had been with her longest.

Chris gently took Gennie into his arms, and Ashley unlocked the door to their house. When Alex was two, they had moved into a larger place just a few neighborhoods away from their old one. As much as Ashley missed their first home and all the memories it contained, nothing could compare to the size and convenience of their current residence.

The house was dead silent. Ashley could see the glint of her husband's glasses in the dim light. Somebody found a light switch and flipped it upward.

Storm lay stretched out on the family room carpet on a soft bath towel, just as Chris had said he left her.

Ashley felt relief press down on her shoulders. The older dog's chest was still rising and falling faintly.

Together, the family crouched in a circle around their beloved pet, four different hands running over her plush gray fur. It felt like thin velvet under Ashley's shaking fingers.

"It's okay, Mom," Alex spoke in a hushed tone. Wordlessly, Ashley wrapped an arm around her younger son's shoulders. Chris had Owen clinging onto his left arm and Gennie nestled in his right.

Fortunately, Storm slipped away peacefully. It wasn't the grisly death Ashley had feared for, with her lungs filling up with blood and her having a spasm attack in front of the kids. It was a gentle way to go, like riding away on the feathery wings of a dove. Owen threw himself on top of her, his fists cupping handfuls of her fur.

Even as Ashley was choking back sobs, she couldn't help but let a grin emerge on her face. She knew that, in this moment, she really did have all she ever wanted. She was a successful author with a loving family, and the pain was over for Storm. Loss was a part of life, and Ashley wanted her children to learn that. Maybe not every other parent would agree with it, but she knew Chris did.

She had her life in order, at long last. And for the first time in almost seventeen years, tonight was a night where Ashley felt no influence from the mountain.

 **Pittsburgh**

The mattress bounced as Mike fell back onto it. He sunk into the comforter, groaning and running his hands through his rats' nest.

"I think I just got, like, five new gray hairs," he muttered through gritted teeth.

He felt movement on his right, then Jessica's fingers were resting on his arm. "Oh, honey. You really think only five?"

"Augh, shut up," he chuckled, turning onto his side to face her for a moment. "Really, do you see anything?" he asked, gesturing to his tufty hair.

Jess rolled her eyes and planted a kiss on his forehead. "Nope. Not a single one."

"Really?"  
"Yes, really. Now tell me, what did the girls do this time?"

Mike rolled back toward the ceiling, taking in every fleck of off-white paint. "I swear you were gone for just five minutes, Jess, and all of a sudden Ella's bombarding me with demands to get her a cell phone. She says all of her friends have one. Since when do ten-year-olds have cell phones? I mean, come _on_! I didn't get a phone until I was fourteen."

Jess shifted closer to him while stroking his chest, which was covered only by a plain t-shirt. "I got a phone when I was… twelve? Maybe eleven. But I'd always lose them anyway."

"Well, lucky you," he grumbled.

"I _am_ lucky," she replied. "I have you." With that, she crawled the rest of the way over to Mike, straddling him and pinning him against his pillow with a passionate display of affection.

"Damn," he breathed when she pulled back for air. "When was the last time we got to—"

She shook her head swiftly, strands of blonde hair falling to tickle his cheek. "Shush. This'll have to be quick if we want it to happen at all." Jess worked nimbly tearing his shirt off, and he ran his hands along her backbone until he found the clasp of her bra.

As she finished pulling away his shirt, he felt the thin chain around his neck fall back onto his bare chest. Instinctively, his fingers were drawn to it like paper clips to a magnet.

Hanging from the chain was his wedding ring, a gold band engraved with their wedding date. He still remembered the day they got married, standing up at the altar after he'd just slid the diamond onto her left ring finger.

 _"I had your ring put on a chain,"_ she'd said softly, holding it up. _"So you can wear it around your neck, and always have it near your heart."_

He still could picture his initial impression— pure awe— and the way the gold gleamed in the spring sun. He still could recall seeing Emily, the maid of honor, holding Ella while standing just behind Jess. He remembered seeing his gorgeous bride, with blonde corkscrews framing her face and a flower crown perched gracefully on top of her head. He could still picture her smiling nervously at him with the chain dangling from her slim fingers.

 _"Thank you,"_ he'd whispered before leaning forward to let her drape the chain around his neck. Then the officiant had spoken the timeless words, and Mike had kissed her with such an intensity he never knew he possessed before. It was like that split second before you die, when you see important parts of your life flash before your eyes. Only for him, he was seeing his future. And it wasn't just the important parts— it was the average days, the little moments he wouldn't remember a decade from then or even the next day. He wanted to see her in every part of his life, the good and the bad, the big and the small. In the movie that constantly played in his head, she was the star, the protagonist, the essential character.

Mike let go of the ring and let it lay against his chest as Jess returned her mouth to his. She embraced his imperfections, and he embraced hers. That was one of the elements he loved best about their relationship.

Just as her fingers were curling into the waistband of his jeans, there was a yell through the closed bedroom door.

"Mommy, Daddy, Wolfie's whining at the door!" It was Sophie, their younger daughter. Mike could tell she was pressed right up against the door by how muffled her voice sounded. "Do I let him out?"

Sophia Harper Munroe, who arrived five years after her sister, was a true daddy's girl. Her hair was long and golden and curly, and it had a slight bounce to it whenever she walked. Her eyes mirrored Mike's, deep and brown, and it still gave him a small thrill whenever he looked into them. While Ella was the one he went to see movies and play catch with, he could always rely on Sophie for a good old princess playhouse date.

"Yeah, Soph, just push the latch up and the door will open," Jess called out to her, a bit breathless.

"Okay," Sophie chirped, and Mike relaxed as he heard her skipping away down the hall.

Jess didn't waste time resuming their previous activity. She undid his jeans in record time, sliding the button out of the notch and ripping down the zipper in less than two seconds. He had just started sucking on her neck when there was another yell, thankfully this time from further away.

"Dad, Uncle Matt is calling on your phone. He says you promised to take him to a Pirates game next week," Ella shouted from another room.

Jess rolled off of Mike with a sigh, her hair spreading out over the pillow like a fan. Mike sat up and yelled back, "It's November! Ask him if he meant a Penguins game."

There was a moment of silence, then Sophie's voice leaked through the door again. "Wolf went potty!"

"Tell him he's a good boy," Jess instructed, a lopsided grin gracing her features. "Your sister can help you give him a treat."

A short while after, Ella's response to Mike came. This time she sounded closer. "Uncle Matt said it doesn't matter what team it is, because all Pittsburgh teams stink anyways. Then he laughed."

Mike sat up on his elbows and opened his mouth to speak, but the ten-year-old cut in.

"What are you two even doing in there?"

Sophie joined her sister on the other side of the door. "Daddy says door locked means he an' Mommy are playing King and Queen together."

"King and Queen?" Ella asked, confused.

Jess shot Mike a playful glare and mouthed "Really, Michael?"

Mike shrugged helplessly. He was already pulling his shirt back on, knowing this game of "King and Queen" wouldn't be completed. "Okay, girls. Tell Uncle Matt I'll be out a sec."

There was a pitter-patter sound as socked feet scampered back down the hallway. Mike finished sliding his shirt on, the cool chain pressing against his chest. Then he grinned at Jess. "Rain date?"

She leaned back on the headboard, looking lost in thought for a moment. "Yeah. Maybe tonight after the girls are in bed."

He threw his legs over the side of the bed, beginning to stand. She didn't make any move, so he twisted back to gaze at her. "Penny for your thoughts?"

Without a word, she leaned over her side of the bed and opened the drawer to her nightstand, taking out a small object. Seconds later, there was a positive pregnancy test laying in his hands.

"Hey!" he remarked happily. "That didn't take long."

" _Pffft_." Jess rolled her eyes. "So I guess we're going in for round three, huh?"

He moved around the bed and bent down to give her a hug. "I remember when you _insisted_ Ella would be an only child," he teased into her hair.

She pushed him away with a giggle. "Yep. That was before I realized just how cute babies are." Her rosy expression flickered like a dying flame. "Mike, if it's another girl… I want to name her Hannah."

"Of course," he agreed instantly. "No buts about it." Pause. "And if it's a boy…?"

"You can hope all you want, but I have a feeling this one will be a girl," Jess said.

Mike didn't even twitch a muscle as she caved into him again. He rubbed circles into her back, his fingers getting entangled in blonde locks. "Can't believe it's almost been two years already," he mumbled.

"Neither can I," she replied. "But I… I like to think she's at peace now."

" _Daaaaad_?"

Mike pulled away from her reluctantly. "I'll be right there, El!" he called over his shoulder. He turned back to his wife one last time, giving her hands a squeeze. "I love you so much. I can't wait."

Jess smiled brightly. She looked so perfect in that moment; he wanted to take a photo of her and frame this in his mind forever. "Love you too, Michael. Hope you're ready to get even more gray hairs."

He chuckled. "Always."

 **New York**

The sip of fruity martini slid down Emily's throat with ease. She glanced over the rim of her glass, manicured nails tapping against the stem.

Matt was nose-deep in the restaurant's menu. His fingers drummed in similar succession to hers against the laminated paper.

"Did you hear about Storm?" He shook his head slowly, eyes creeping up gradually as if gravity was trying to shove them back down. "Damn sad."

"Yeah," Emily hummed. She played with the silver band on her left hand. "It seems like just yesterday, Sam found her and Wolf in the streets of Chicago. She was too young."

"And Wolf is fine, right?"

"Mike and Jess haven't said anything out of the ordinary about him."

The waitress came up to their table right then, notepad and pen poised to write. "Are you both ready to order?"

Emily nodded, not even looking back at the menu as she recited: "Pepper lemon steak, medium-rare, easy on the pepper, heavy on the lemon sauce. Sides of lobster mac n' cheese and garlic butter braised asparagus."

The waitress finished scribbling down her choices, then turned to Matt expectantly.

His eyebrows were raised so high, they were stretching close to his hairline. "Um… well… I'll have the, er, blackened salmon with… the shoestring fries and… ah, hell… the lobster mac n' cheese."

When the waitress was gone, he faced Emily with still remarkably upraised brows. She could read the surprise in his eyes as clearly as words in a book.

"Did I really just hear you place an order and not even mention 'salad'? Who are you, and what have you done with Emily?" he teased.

"Let's just say I've wizened up a little," she returned between sips of martini. "Life is short. Enjoy the extra calories while you can."

Matt lifted his soda glass and clinked it half-heartedly against hers. "I can definitely live to that philosophy. Cheers."

"To what?" she asked.

"To…" He paused, then bobbed his head affirmatively. "To us not hating each other!"

Emily smirked. "To us not hating each other," she repeated, finally colliding her glass against his in return.

Matt looked well, she thought, considering all he had been through. He was currently going through the "beard phase," something that Chris and Josh had also undergone in the last decade. Chris's sad excuse for a beard had been a few sparse patches of facial hair along his chin; Josh had managed to grow a thin mustache that perfectly traced his upper lip— and Sam had practically taken a razor to that herself. Mike's beard was the only one that had lasted for almost three years, until one day his younger daughter cried because she didn't recognize him, so he shaved it off. And now here Matt was, sporting a graying and stubbly mess all over the lower half of his face.

As for Emily, she still had the same black bob. She did let it grow out somewhat every now and then, and for a six-month period she had paler highlights and wavier locks. Then some guy made a comment, and she hit the "revert" button right back to her typical appearance. Her makeup was always, as fifteen-year-old Jess would've put it, "on point." There was never a single stray streak of lipstick or a smudge of eyeliner migrating down her cheek. After all, company CEOs should look composed at all times.

"So… how has work been for you? Are you figuring out those numbers and… all that other fun stuff?" Matt piped up.

Emily groaned. "Please, could we not talk about my job, just for today? I would like one part of my life to _not_ revolve around that B.S."

"Okay," he conceded. "Um… I'm heading down to P-burg next week to see a Steelers game with Mike. He said Ella might tag along too. Apparently she has quite the interest in football."

She smiled. "That's sweet. Ella can be on the football team for her school, and Sophie can cheer for her on the sidelines." When Matt tilted his head thoughtfully, she went on, "Come on, you _know_ Sophie is following in the footsteps of her mother."

"No, no, that's definitely true," Matt said. "Even if she's attached at the hip to her dad."

Their conversation droned on throughout dinner, switching from one various topic to another. None of them really captured Emily's attention, but anything was better than stupid work. She loved her job, of course— she loved working with numbers, and she loved bossing others around— but this was her one day off in the entire week. Today, Friday, was her one day to not give a crap about any of that.

She hadn't realized how early their dinner was until they emerged from the restaurant. Her phone told her it was only four o'clock. She looked to her right and grinned at Matt.

"How about we explore a bit?"

He scanned over the line of tall buildings facing them. The skyscrapers reached high into the clouds and seemed gigantic enough to touch the sun.

"Sure," he said. He took her hand and they ventured into the crowd.

 **Seattle**

Samantha Washington was exhausted.

Beth's lateness wasn't helping.

Sam paced around the kitchen island until she was sure there would be a perfect oval worn into the floor. She stirred the pot of macaroni on the stove, then resumed her pacing.

She had already thrown on an outfit that made her look somewhat presentable for the court. A pleated black skirt and a simple white blouse had been maybe the second or third things she'd grabbed out of the closet. She hadn't worn the skirt since before the twins were born, so it was a little tight around her waist. The blouse also had a small stain on one sleeve from who-knew-when. But to her, it was good enough.

Sam returned to the pot, watching the elbow pasta dance and bounce in the bubbling water. It was almost ready to have the grated cheese added. Now, if Beth would just show up…

"Mommy!"

Sam jumped, spinning to face the source of the voice. Right away, her heart swelled and her fingers closed a little tighter around the wooden spoon.

Charlotte Elizabeth Washington was tall for her age; Josh always joked that she would be taller than Sam one day, and Sam couldn't help but agree with him. Parents at the playground always mistook her for a five-year-old.

As much as it stirred up Sam's emotions to look at her, it wasn't entirely in a good way. Charlie's appearance haunted her. She had the same chocolate brown hair and bright green eyes as her father. When Sam looked at her daughter, she saw Josh in her with every blink, every giggle, every quirk of her mouth.

"Hey, Charls," Sam greeted the toddler. She leaned down and planted a kiss in her messy waves. "Where's your brother?"

"Caleb not share toys," Charlotte explained matter-of-factly. "I come here instead."

Sam grinned stiffly. If Charlotte didn't seem too bothered by her brother's trouble with sharing, then she wouldn't waste any energy dealing with it right then. Sam stood back up to give the macaroni another stir, then said, "Okay, honey, how about you go check the window to see if Aunt Beth's here yet?"

Charlotte leaped up from the floor and twirled down the hallway. "Jonah come too?" she called.

"I don't know. Maybe," Sam replied. The stove timer went off, signaling it was time for the cheese to be added. She picked up the bowl with the grated cheese and dumped it into the pot. She had maybe a minute of peace until her son wandered in.

"Mac n' cheese?" Caleb asked curiously, tugging at a dish towel hanging from a rack.

"Yes, sir," Sam said.

Caleb stood on his toes, but he still couldn't quite reach the counter. "Vegan cheese or real cheese?"

Sam turned to him, a partial grin on her face as she rested one hand on her hip. "What do you think?"

"Vegan!" Caleb stuck his tongue out. "Hamburgers always have real cheese."

"Hamburgers from where?"

"Daddy's favorite place," Caleb informed her.

Sam reached down to tousle his hair— which was just as brown as his sister's and his father's. "Well, let me tell you something. Vegan cheese is good for you. And it's healthy. It will make you grow up big and strong!"

She set the stove's flame to low and picked Caleb up with a grunt. Jeez, when did he get so big?

He giggled joyfully, swinging his arms before linking them behind her neck. "Will I be stronger than you, Mommy?"

"Probably, hon. Probably," Sam sighed.

Just then, there was a yell from Charlotte: "Aunt Beth an' Aunt Izzy an' Jonah here!" She ran down the hallway as if she were in a five-meter dash. Their calico cat Maisie was just ahead of her, looking highly disgruntled.

Sam walked to the front door and let the three of them in. Beth stumbled in first, her bangs falling in her eyes as she reached up to take her hat off. She was followed by her wife, Isabella, and their adopted son Jonah. The six-year-old marched up eagerly to Charlotte and Caleb, his cheeks ruddy from the harsh November cold.

"Hey, Beth," Sam spoke as she pulled her sister-in-law into a quick hug. "Hey, Iz. Thanks for coming on short notice."

"No worries," Isabella grinned. "Jonah has been begging for another playdate with your two."

Beth looked fine and dandy despite their tense conversation yesterday. Sam knew she wouldn't take out her anger on the kids, so at least she had that to be thankful for. Otherwise, she could only hope she and Beth would stay friends after this process was over. Even Chris, Josh's best friend, had vowed not to cut off contact with her. It would be much easier for him to, considering he and Ash lived two states away.

Sam hung up everyone's coats in the front closet and led them back to the kitchen. Jonah, Charlotte and Caleb were already busy at work building a Lego tower in the living room one step down.

"Alright, so I have mac n' cheese cooking on the stove, it maybe needs another five minutes," Sam explained as she scooped up her car keys. "I'm not sure how long this will be. It could last until pretty late. In that case, I've set up things upstairs, and the kids' bedtime is six, as you know—"

"Don't worry about it," Beth interrupted her, meeting her eyes and nodding seriously. "Just go and get it over with. We'll be here whenever you get back."

"Thank you." Sam slipped on her coat and was out the door less than thirty seconds later.

As much as Sam appreciated Beth and Isabella's help, she still felt some guilt. That was probably because of her lying to them. She wasn't going to the court. Not today.

Sam twisted the wheel, and the Subaru squeezed down a narrower street. The SUV shook and shuddered over every pothole and imperfection in the old, roughly-paved road. The buildings of suburban Seattle gave way to sprawling fields marked with headstones.

When she reached the front gate of the cemetery, she killed the engine and sat for a moment, preparing herself. She took her hair out of its bun, letting it fall around her shoulders. It seemed as limp and tired as she felt.

Wrapping her coat closer around her body, Sam stepped out of the car and skirted around a clump of slushy snow. She squelched over the grass, running her watery gaze over unfamiliar names and dates until she reached the one familiar name.

Sam slowed to a halt, kneeling down and taking in the words carved into the cold gray stone.

 _HANNAH E. WASHINGTON_

 _BELOVED SISTER, DAUGHTER AND FRIEND_

 _TAKEN TOO SOON BY SELF-HATE_

 _AUG. 15 1996 – DEC. 3 2029_

What a goddamn cliché. Sam never expected seeing herself crouched in front of the gravestone of one of her friends with mascara-black tears staining her cheeks. Yet Hannah was not just a friend— she was Sam's best friend. Her sister-in-law. Beth's other half. And Hannah had survived the mountain, just like the rest of them. Somehow, for cruel life, that wasn't good enough.

She wasn't sure who had the words "self-hate" imprinted onto that stone, but she would love to punch them. She longed to take a rock and scrape those words off that stone until her knuckles were raw and bleeding. Even if Hannah had taken her own life, she still did not deserve to have that reminder forever branded over her coffin. "Self-hate" were dull words, the equivalent of an overcast day, the same as wispy gray storm clouds drifting over a pale ashen sky. That wasn't Hannah. Hannah had been bright, colorful, with stuffed animals and pillows covering her bed, pink bows in her hair, flashy braces on her teeth, shimmery silver Sharpie marker doodles scribbled over her Converse. She deserved more than those lame fucking words.

Sam's legs were numb after thirty minutes, but she stayed strong and stubborn. She kept her head lowered, eyes closed, sobs silent as they screamed up her throat and echoed around her mouth.

When she pulled the ring out of her pocket, she was almost delirious. Her wedding ring was beautiful, and expensive. Josh had it custom made with tiny peridot stones surrounding the larger diamond in the middle. It was Sam's birthstone, of course, but he also said the green reminded him of her eyes, and of her love for nature. Green was her favorite color.

And peridot was Hannah and Beth's birthstone, too.

An angry cry tore through Sam's gritted teeth. She let the ring fly from her fingers, a projectile that ripped through the musky air and landed against the gravestone.

"Sam." Josh sat down next to her, apparently insensible to the cold mud seeping through his pants.

She didn't care how or when he got there. She just stared steadily at the ring as it rested on the moist earth. Grass blades were beginning to spring back up after having been crushed by the sudden weight.

"Did you have those words put there?" she mumbled.

He did not need to ask for clarification. He just ducked his head and sighed. "No. I don't know who wanted them there. Probably my mother."

Sam swallowed. Her fingers were red and irritated from the cold. She clasped her hands together and tucked them into her lap. "I… I'm glad she's not here. To see us like this."

He shifted next to her. "Remember when she held the twins for the first time, the day they were born? I'd never seen her that thrilled before."

Sam remembered. She also remembered all she had gone through in order to have the twins. All of the doctor appointments, all of the fertility treatments, all of the nights spent screaming in frustration with her hands clutching the thin hospital gown. Josh had been supportive and patient through everything, but many times his thin outer shell broke and he, too, would cry behind closed doors.

He was an excellent father. He treated their children like they were the next successors to the royal throne— to an extent, of course. The problem was his irresponsibility. Sam would ask him to do one thing, and he decided to do another. He would initiate one innocent "prank war" after another, but in all honesty Sam could hardly stand his pranks. She had a sense of humor. She wasn't uptight. But more times than she could count, Josh went too far.

His worst prank during their marriage happened soon before the twins were born. She was an irritable, eight-months-pregnant land barge who could barely roll out of bed without needing help. She'd awoken one morning to find his half of the bed cold and empty, all of his drawers cleared out, and his car gone from the driveway. As the realization set in that he must have left her, she underwent the biggest meltdown of her entire life. She called Hannah, she called Beth, she called Chris and Ashley. None of them had seen him, and they were all sympathetic to her.

When Josh popped back in no less than five hours later with a suitcase full of clothes, he was laughing like a first grader who had just successfully sneaked a thumbtack onto his teacher's chair.

" _Sam. Sammy! I was just messing with you. You know I would never leave you and our kids._ "

She still could recall the exact words that had left his blubbering mouth that day. She'd damn near kicked him out, but the only thing stopping her was the hulking fact that she would make a poor single mother to not just one, but two babies.

Over time, they mended their relationship. Caleb and Charlotte were one when they got the call.

" _… found her dark blue 2005 Honda Civic smashed against a tree… identified the body as Hannah Washington, 33 years old… she had a suicide note sitting on the dashboard…_ "

Sam wouldn't forget those words either.

Hannah's death brought her and Josh closer. For a year and a half, he stayed in line. Until he didn't anymore.

Sam called him a hazard to their children. She called him a hazard to her own mental health. She called him a hazard to himself.

He agreed to the divorce, and so far, their separation was amicable. It was still such a recent development, so the kids did not know yet. Sam planned to tell them soon.

There was one problem, however, that was an obstacle to her efforts: she was still in love with him.

The past sixteen, almost seventeen, years had been pure turmoil. As Sam looked up at her husband, who sat so dutifully and quietly beside her, she wondered if she was making the right choice.

"Josh," she murmured. She hadn't even noticed her hand was enclosed around the sleeve of his fleece jacket.

"Hm?" His eyes landed on her. How could they look so bright in such a dark place?

Sam rose to her feet, her joints creaking like the hinges of an old door. Josh stood with her. She gazed at him still, her jaw set and mind made up. "Let's go somewhere warmer," she suggested.

"Okay," he said. She led the way out, boots scraping along the mucky gravel path. Josh hesitated, his eyes darting from her retreating shape to the resting place of his sister.

Without a sound, he bent over and retrieved Sam's wedding ring. The jewelry felt frosty like an ice cube as he curled it into his palm. He cast one last glance at the gravestone.

"Are you coming?" Sam's voice reached his ears from several yards away. There was a touch of warmth to her words, and it fought against the chilly autumn air.

Josh blinked a few times. A smile was drawn onto his lips. "Until we meet again," he whispered to Hannah.

Then he followed Sam along the gravel path.

* * *

 **Wooooow. This... this was a wild ride. I'm actually tearing up right now, because this entire story has been such an emotional journey for me. I started it almost one year ago, at the end of summer 2016, and today this journey ends, at the start of summer 2017. If I were to fully explain the amount of gratitude I feel for everyone who has ever clicked on this story and given it a chance, the words would take up countless pages. It was your support that kept me going even when I had severe writer's block, which happened several times during this story. It was also my undying love for these characters who are so mysterious to us. It is up to us fanfic writers to dive deeper into these beloved characters, to explore their flaws and their past, present and future. As different or similar as my interpretation may have been from other writers', I still hope you enjoyed my way of writing these amazing characters.**

 **Thank you so, so much. Until Dawn will always be in my heart, and I will still keep an eye on the fandom. There's a small chance I might write a brief one shot, but otherwise I am finished contributing. On a more positive note, this new prequel they just announced looks amazing, and even if it's an entirely new cast of characters (just as we all feared...!) I have no doubt it will be great.**

 **I kept this epilogue vague for a reason. I want you all, as the readers, to imagine what became of the characters. Maybe Emily and Matt stayed together, maybe they did not. Maybe Jess and Mike had a third daughter, or maybe they finally got a son. Maybe Josh and Sam gave things another chance, or maybe they didn't. Just choose whichever scenario your heart desires - I won't stop you :)**

 **So I guess this is goodbye. I appreciate all of your reviews, favorites, and follows. A big thank you is also needed for Anarchist's Rose, IEatBooksForTea, PipPipCheerios, and theaterman007 (+ others!) for private messaging me over these months and being so awesome (even if I didn't always reply to your PMs on time!) I will never forget all of the time I dedicated to this story and this fandom. It will always mean so much to me, and of course none of it was ever wasted.**

 **Thank you.**

 **-Emily**

 **P.S. If you enjoyed this story, then here are a few of my favorites that I'm sure you would enjoy just as much:**

 **Until Dawn: Back to the Nightmare by theaterman007**

 **Shattered Minds by PipPipCheerios**

 **Broken Parable by GentlemanAdventurer**

 **Cages, Fairy Lights, While The World Crumbles We Stand Strong, Hell's Circus by Anarchist's Rose**

 **The Fall Out by Morgitz**

 **And these other amazing authors: BBarcier, Enula-Morgitz, CarrieT, wickedbad, IEatBooksForTea, complacentCatalyst, BigCatChuck19, InkheartFirebringer, and HorriBlu.**

 **They all have a lot of talent and their stories have well-earned places on my favorites list. Thanks to everyone for your contributions to this beloved fandom.**


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